The Evils of Vanity
by Yesm777
Summary: John, Chas and Zed find themselves in a small Washington town, looking for three missing teens. But after their investigation leads them into the dark depths of the forest, they may be in for more than they bargained for. Future Constantine whump. Some language.
1. Breakfast and Appetites

_Author's Note: I've decided to try my hand at a longer Constantine fic. There will be some Constantine whump in the future and I hope I do the characters justice._

**_Warnings_**: _Bit of language, bit of violence and gore and probably a few dots of angst here and there._

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**1\. Breakfast and Appetites**

John plopped down with his breakfast, blinking the sleep from his eyes. He looked down at his toast, pressing his lips together in mild distaste. He wasn't really that hungry, his stomach rejecting the very idea of eggs on toast. Not that he cared. Shrugging, he took a large bite and chewed slowly as if to snub his own appetite.

Take that, you bloody bastard.

"Huh." Chas muttered.

John looked over at Chas, watching the taller man sipping away at his coffee. The demonologist looked back down at his breakfast, his thoughts rambling. Tea sounded nice. But that seemed like too much effort for the moment. Instead, he took another bite of toast.

"There's another spot on the map." Chas stated casually, taking another swig of his coffee. John sighed, slouching wearily. Of course the map chose today to announce their next case. It had to wait until John had spent half the night staring at the damn mirror above the fireplace. Seeing Gaz's sweaty mug in the reflection seemed to give way to unproductive, fleeting hours. And even when John had managed a little shuteye, it was shallow and mottled with nightmares. His dreams were always a sour reminder of his failures. Nothing like screams to keep you awake.

Smirking nervously to himself, John returned to his breakfast. He could use a drink. But Chas would probably say something at this time in the morning.

"You hear me, John?"

Constantine looked up at Chas, still halfway through his next bite. "Yeah, mate. I heard you."

Chas frowned, carefully appraising the blond. "You up late?"

John grinned, tucking his weary self behind a bit of fake enthusiasm. "When am I not?"

Chas raised his eyebrows, nodding to himself. "True, I guess."

"Any idea what it is?" John asked, shoving another bite into his mouth. He grimaced, chewing slower as his stomach began swirling uncomfortably. He dropped the toast unceremoniously to the plate, casually sitting back in his seat. Damn, failing appetite.

"I haven't heard anything, but that's not a surprise considering where our next case looks to be." Chas replied, gulping down another mouthful of coffee.

John leaned forward to peer around his friend as he caught movement from the shadows. He grinned. "Oh, look who decided to join us."

Zed walked barefoot across the floor, yawning widely as she went. "Good morning." she sighed, immediately parking herself sloppily on the couch.

"Long night, love?" John inquired, nearly reaching for his toast before he remembered he wasn't hungry for it.

"I guess. Kept having visions of these creepy woods. Or maybe it was just a random, weird dream for once." Zed sighed. John threw her doubtful look.

"I wouldn't count on it." he mumbled, resting his elbows on the table. "Anyway, we've got a new case."

"Really? Where is it?" Zed probed, looking to Chas.

"Looks like we're going…" Chas glanced down at the map. "northwest. Washington, to be exact."

John groaned, rolling his eyes as he pushed the abhorrent toast further away from him. "Anywhere decent?" he grumbled, leaning back against his chair.

"Looks like a small town." Chas replied. "Hardly a dot on the map."

John released a heavy breath, hanging his head in irritation. "Alright, we'll snag the first flight up."

"I'll pack!" Zed yelled, jumping up from her seat and trotting off to her room excitedly.

John looked up at her, mouth already open to stop her. Hesitantly, he closed his mouth, wondering if maybe, this time, he should let her tag along. After a moment's thought, he dropped his shoulders with a sigh.

"Bloody hell, why not." He muttered. She was always eager to go. It was almost more painful to keep her away from the danger, even if it gave him peace of mind.

He stood from his seat, snatching up his bag as he mentally made a list of things to pack. He could feel Chas watching him, absorbing the way John hastily grabbed the supernatural necessities.

"She can take care of herself, John." Chas said quietly. "She wouldn't go if she wasn't willing to risk her health…or her life for that matter."

"That's the bloody problem, isn't it?" John mumbled with a dull smirk, nearly dropping a ceremonial bowl into his bag.

Now, Chas, he never had to worry about. After absorbing all those lives in the fire, Chas was pretty damn invincible for the next several deaths. Zed didn't have a backup plan like that. She dies, she dies. The tumor in her brain wasn't helping much either.

"She'll be fine." Chas muttered. Hidden meaning sat behind his words, whispering of Chas's loyalty. John knew it was a quiet promise of protection. If Zed got too close for comfort, Chas would be the one to pull her back. And if pulling her back wasn't an option, he'd die in her place.

John sighed. Of course Chas would protect her. He always would.

Chas slapped a hand on his shoulder, causing the demonologist to look up from his packing.

"I think we should be worrying more about you." Chas suggested, raising a brow. John promptly shook him off.

"I've survived all these years, haven't I?" he grumbled, turning away from his friend to focus on the task at hand.

Chas pressed his lips together thoughtfully.

"You okay to do this case, John?" he asked. The exorcist turned slowly, his movement almost dangerous in nature.

"You think I'm not, mate?" he inquired suspiciously.

"Never said that." Chas countered casually. "Just wanted to be sure you're okay. I mean, it hasn't been that long since the last one and you did electrocute yourself."

John tilted his head as his mouth pressed itself into a thin line. "Zed tell you?"

"When doesn't she?" Chas chuckled, plucking up a book to hand to John. The demonologist took it indifferently, tucking it into his bag.

"Tattletale." He grumbled. Chas simply smiled humorously.

"If you're not up for it, it's okay to say so, John."

John offered a crooked smile, patting Chas on the bicep. "Thanks, mate. But I'll be just fine." he replied with a bite of mock enthusiasm, walking past his friend.

Chas swallowed a sigh. He should've known John wouldn't admit his weakness so easily. The man only asked for real help when he absolutely had to. Usually, that meant innocent people were in serious danger. While John was stubborn, he wasn't prideful. He didn't take stupid risks if lives were at stake. Unless it was his own. John couldn't give a damn about his own mortality and Chas had a hard time swallowing the fact.

"Well, if you change your mind…" he mumbled, his words trailing off into hopelessness.

"Yeah." John droned, distracted with his packing. Chas watched him for awhile, deciding whether or not he should forcefully intervene with the man's own self-destruction.

Perhaps he should give it a little more time.

After all, he had some things he had to pack for himself.


	2. Troubles in the Northwest

_Author's Note: Alas, the next chapter. Not too much action just yet, but baby steps, right? It'll get there. Promise. Thanks so much for all the reviews! Happy reading, everybody._

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**2\. Troubles in the Northwest**

"I can't get my ears to pop." Zed said, working her jaw as she tried to force a yawn.

John sighed, rubbing his eyes. Normally, he'd settle in and sleep the flight away, too impatient to wait the hours out. He definitely needed it today.

The earliest flight they could snatch was early in the morning and John had, yet again, squandered precious hours of sleep in favor of his busy thoughts. Even now, as they flew over the country, he couldn't manage a single minute of actual sleep.

"Here." Chas muttered, handing her a piece of gum. "Helps me sometimes."

John blearily looked out of the half-closed window beside him, taking a deep breath as he listened to the two beside him. Maybe it was his already sour mood, but small talk just seemed empty and pointless. For all he knew, they could crash right now. Yet, Zed and Chas were talking about gum and ears popping.

"You want any gum, John?" Zed asked, nudging him lightly. He looked at her from the corner of his eye, a small smile playing along his lips.

"No thanks, love." he mumbled.

Seeing her face now, his mind wandered back to her kiss with that damn detective. Despite Zed's attempts, they hadn't talked about it. Hell, he didn't even want to; it was none of his business. Her life was hers and his was his. He had no permission to pry and nor should he care. But he'd gotten so used to having her around all the time. In fact, he_ liked_ having her around all the time. And if she'd taken a fancy to this Jim Corrigan, he had the funny feeling he'd be seeing her less and less.

But why should he worry so much about it? She wouldn't be the first to leave him; nor would she be the last. His stomach swirled uncomfortably at the thought.

From the corner of his eye, he watched Zed shoot Chas a look. The expression on Chas's face was even worse, ratcheting John's nausea up another level. They thought something was wrong with him.

There was always something wrong with him. Why else would he check himself into a mental institution? For kicks?

No thanks.

Watching the two of them silently worry about his lethargy, John had a rare moment of true desire. He wanted to be back at the millhouse, sucking down the most potent alcohol he could find until he passed out on the couch. And when he woke up, he'd do it all over again until he didn't want to do it anymore. And to make things even better, Gaz would be there in the mirror again, reminding John of his friend's last, dying days. Sometimes John could still feel the vice grip on his hand: the last connection he really had with Gaz in his final moments.

Damn Gaz.

Why did he have to go release the hunger demon from that poor sod? Although, John really had no reason to blame him. Gary had just wanted to help the suffering. He wanted to make up for his sins.

John could understand that.

"You want my peanuts?" Zed offered, her large eyes watching him carefully. He sat up in his chair, a sigh pressing out of his lungs.

"No, but thanks." he croaked. She frowned, confusion pinching delicately at her features.

"You okay, John?"

He smirked at her, quickly hiding his weariness. "I'm right as rain, love."

She pressed her lips together, her expression uncertain. "It's just you don't look too well."

He leaned back casually in his seat, easily slipping into his usual bastardly behavior. "Nothing to worry about. Just need a good kip and I'll be fine."

Zed frowned, but seemed somewhat satisfied by his answer. "Maybe you can sleep it off when we get there."

"Eh, not until I get my hands dirty first." he replied, grinning wildly. She rolled her eyes, a ghost of a smile turning her lips.

"If you say so." she chuckled, turning her gaze to look towards the front of the cabin.

Relieved by the end of the conversation, John let out a small sigh and returned his watch out the window.

While Zed hadn't yet figured out the cunning ways of John Constantine, Chas was a bit wiser. He watched the demonologist carefully, the pale complexion coming first and foremost to his attention. Perhaps it was just one of those days.

John was very good at shoving the worst of his life to the back of his mind, instead reveling in smartass remarks and sly sarcasm. But, every now and then, even John couldn't bury his nightmares. Although, in many ways they were more than just nightmares. It was more like an illness, the way they kept him up all night and clawed away at his appetite. After years of putting up with the man, it wasn't hard to spot the fatigue, even behind John's best cheeky grin. So far, Chas still hadn't found the right medicine.

Even so, John always found a way to bury his demons again.

Chas glanced at Zed, watching as she sketched easily, the charcoal in her hands natural. He could see why John was always trying to keep her from their painful lifestyle. She still saw the light in the world, a rarity in their line of work.

After all, John had lost that a long time ago.

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John looked up at the angry, dark clouds. He didn't care about the raindrops hitting his face. He didn't even care about getting wet. As long as his ciggy stayed lit, none of that mattered.

"Looks like we're dealing with the disappearance of a few teens." Chas explained, returning from the front desk. He held up the keys to their motel room with a jingle. "Locals say they haven't been seen for a couple days."

John nodded as he took a deep drag, moving to follow Chas. Of course it had to be kids.

"Anybody have an idea of what happened?" Zed asked, throwing her bag over her shoulder.

"The old man at the desk said they were all friends. Kids doing the usual mischief around here." Chas muttered. "I guess the other kids weren't too fond of them."

John frowned. Probably wasn't the first time the black sheep disappeared. Always seemed to be the ones that stood out.

"What kind of mischief?" Zed poked, her brow furrowed.

Chas let out a heavy sigh, slowing as they approached their motel room. "No clue. He didn't say much more than that."

John sucked in another lungful of smoke as Chas opened up the door to let them in. He was glad Chas had done the preliminary investigation. Normally, John didn't mind weaseling information out of the locals, but he didn't feel up to it today. Especially about damn kids. _Kids._

He flicked away his cigarette.

The three of them filed inside, Zed and Chas shucking off their damp coats as Chas turned up the heat. John's eye caught on the thin newspaper tucked neatly in Chas's back pocket. "Got a local newspaper?"

"Yeah, found some good information on our missing teens." Chas replied, still crouched as he finished adjusting the heat settings.

"Maybe we should ask around the high school. The other kids probably know a few things." Zed offered.

"You should go." John huffed with a smirk. "They'll talk to a pretty, little bird over one of us." He shot an abrupt nod towards Chas, the taller man shrugging in vague agreement. "Chas and I will split up and talk to families."

Chas stood up and straightened, snatching up the paper in his back pocket. "Looks like a girl and two boys. Which do you want to take?" Chas asked, tossing the flimsy newspaper on one of the beds. John picked it up, eyes tracing the three photos staring back at him. Just looking at their faces, he knew why they stood out. He used to look the same when he was a skinny, little brat.

"I'll take James." he announced enthusiastically, tossing the paper back on the bed. Chas's eyes caught John's, absorbing the faint trace of darkness in the demonologist's eyes. He would ask, but something told him it was none of his business.

"Alright, I've got Alexa and Will." he sighed, turning away from his friend. "Should we take a break before we head out?"

John mulled it over for a minute, wondering if maybe it was a good idea to catch a bit of sleep before diving in. He pressed his lips together. "No, I think I'll pass." he replied. "Probably best to get going."

"Alright, let's go." Zed agreed, snatching her coat back up. Chas swallowed a sigh, his gaze tracing the darkening circles under John's eyes.

"Yeah, alright." he muttered, picking up his own jacket.

Stupid exorcist.


	3. Damn Drunks

_Author's Note: I'm trying to speed things up to get to the good parts, but I hope you're enjoying it so far. Thought I'd also post this chapter today, since I had it done and all. Thanks for reading!_

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**3\. Damn Drunks**

Chas carefully set the mug back on the coffee table, looking up Alexa's mom with a sympathetic expression. Ms. Thompson was a single mother, working night shifts as a nurse to support two children, all while being the best mom she could be. Alexa's disappearance had been a heavy blow for the weary woman.

Chas's heart went out to her.

Will's parents had been a bit different. Chas's meeting with them had been short and fruitless. They were understandably upset, but Chas had the feeling that household rules were lax and bordering on the careless end. The two of them loved Will, but not enough to really get to know their own kid. Neither one of them had a clue of what their son was getting into, let alone cared.

Alexa's mom cared.

"It's been so hard to explain to my youngest what happened to his sister. How do you tell a ten-year-old that his big sister is missing?" she hiccupped. Chas reached out and placed a hand on her arm.

"But it's good that he knows." he assured her. She nodded, smiling a little as she swiped a tissue under her nose. Chas swallowed the lump in his throat. It seemed like these were the hardest cases. "Ms. Thompson—"

"Please, call me Laurie." she muttered, her lips curving upward politely.

"Laurie," he corrected. "has Alexa been acting strangely? Maybe getting in with a bad crowd?"

Laurie chuckled a bit. "I wouldn't say she's with a bad crowd… Will and James have always been a bit rebellious, but nothing dangerous. They were over here all the time, those two. Troubled, maybe, but not bad kids." She paused a moment, sniffling a little. "Although…lately, they've been getting into a few things that worried me."

"Like what?" Chas ventured.

"They were getting into ghost stories and things. I figured they were just looking for a thrill, but then Alexa started sneaking out, going to the old cemetery and such. She told me it was harmless, but it just made me nervous, all that talk." she explained. "I tried to be open to it, to just ride it out until they got it out of their system…I mean, what harm are ghosts, right?"

Chas didn't say anything, hoping to leave the poor woman in ignorance.

"But some of the stories they'd talk about gave me chills. When I came home from work once, I heard them talking about the stupid local scary story. The way they discussed it…it was like…like they were fascinated with it. Obsessed, maybe."

"What local story?" Chas asked, frowning a little.

"Well, I mean, it's stupid. One of those old campfire stories." she muttered. "They say there used to be a woman that lived in the woods around here that would kill people and bathe in their blood. I think somebody just adapted that whole story of Elizabeth something-or-other in Hungary to make it scarier."

Chas pressed his lips together. "Do you know if they might've gone looking in the woods?"

"You know, I wouldn't be surprised." Laurie huffed. She paused, her eyes bubbling with tears. "I just want to know what happened to my baby." She dropped her head into her hands, covering her face as she attempted to suppress her grief.

After a couple of minutes trying to compose herself, she sat up, wiping furiously at her eyes. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Chas replied quickly, resettling his hand on her arm. "I have a daughter of my own. I understand where you're coming from."

She smiled. "Thank you."

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John hiked up the small steps to the front door. He knew Chas was onto him and his low spirits as of late. Always was. But something about this case kept his mind aflutter, making it more and more difficult to settle his thoughts. Maybe it was because this case was digging up memories John would rather forget. As soon as he'd seen the shadow in the James' eyes, he knew exactly what waited for him on the other side of the door.

John was far more familiar with it than he liked.

The house itself looked a little worse for wear, the paint peeling at the corners as moss grew carelessly on the rooftop. John's suspicions grew more confident, the lack of upkeep a sign of what sat within the home.

Clenching his jaw, he knocked firmly on the rotting wood. There was angry shout inside, heavy footfalls practically stomping across the floor.

When the door opened, John was already prepared for the grumbling mass of lazy on the other side.

"Mr. Peters?" he asked in a low tone, appraising the man in front of him. He was of average build, dark hair tousled and greasy as a shadow of stubble stood out against pale skin. His toned muscular frame gave testament of hard work in his earlier days, now washed out by the daily intake of alcohol. John could smell the stench of his breath a few feet away, rank and lingering.

Drunk. At nearly eleven in the morning.

John looked down at the man's hands, pressing his lips together as he saw the scabs over the dirty knuckles. The demonologist slid his gaze up to meet foggy eyes, bloodshot and weary.

"Is James your boy?" he asked, offering a fake smile as he tucked his hands into his pockets. John wasn't sure if he could trust his fists to keep to themselves.

"Yeah, what of it?" the man mumbled, his voice gravelly and rough.

"I'm helping in the investigation of his disappearance." John explained. It wasn't necessarily a lie, technically he was helping. "Can I ask you a few questions?"

The man shrugged, leaning against the doorway when he began to sway.

"When was the last time you saw your son, Mr. Peters?" John inquired casually, attempting to sneak a few glances inside.

"Dunno. Don' remember." the man muttered. "Always snuck out, that little shit."

"You don't seem too broken up about him missing." John pressed, leaning back a little as he stared the unsteady man down.

"Just another mouth to feed." Mr. Peters huffed, folding his arms. John's eyes narrowed as he mercilessly glared at the drunk.

"Your son is missing and you can't even give a damn?" John muttered. "Must be one hell of a father."

"Hey, don' speak to m'like tha'." the man snapped, his words muddled.

John could feel a buzz of anger through his limbs, a vile heat burning at his core. He wanted to hit the man. Show him what it feels like to get a bit of his own medicine. But he shouldn't. He really shouldn't.

John let the thought sit for a moment, staring at his newborn enemy.

Ah, what the hell.

Barely managing a fist, John smashed his knuckles into Mr. Peters' face.


	4. Trails

_Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews! I know every fanfic author encourages more reviews, but they aren't lying when they say reviews fuel the creative fire. Definitely urges us to continue our stories, that's for sure. Ahead is only slight Constantine whump, but it will get much, much better in the later chapters. Happy reading!_

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**4\. Trails**

Zed walked purposefully towards their motel room. The few hours at the high school were well spent, turning up a number of stories involving the missing teens and their fascination with the occult. Most of the other kids basically admitted that they were frightened by the creepy vibe and avoided the three of them altogether.

She stuck the key into the lock, twisting purposefully as she pushed the door open. Good thing Chas had given her a key. Didn't look like he'd come back yet.

As she stepped over the threshold, she stopped, surprised by the slender blond hunched over on one of the beds.

"John, you scared me." she chuckled, tossing the key on the small table against the wall.

"Eh, I don't bite." he replied, looking up at her briefly. "Well, sometimes." Zed's eyes widened as she caught a glimpse of his eye.

"What the hell happened to your eye?" she demanded, briefly glancing over him for more injuries. Her gaze settled on one of his hands, black and blue peeking out from behind a towel John held against it. Zed could only assume he was attempting to ice it for the swelling. "And what the hell happened to your hand?"

"Nothing I don't normally do." he replied with a shrug. She scowled, her hands on her hips.

"What happened?" she pressed.

He let out a huff, moving the makeshift ice pack from his hand to his eye. "James' old man might be a bit of a drunk."

"So, he just beat you up?" she hissed.

John winced, avoiding her gaze. "I may have thrown the first punch."

Zed rolled her eyes. Of course he did.

"Sometimes you could be so stupid, John." she admonished, frowning when she noticed swelling on his hand. For a moment, he said nothing. Not even when Zed had crouched down to further inspect his injured fingers.

When he spoke, his tone held little of his usual teasing humor. "He deserved it, the bastard." he muttered, a dry smile gracing his lips. Zed looked up at him, stilling as she saw the dim light of anger in his eyes.

Zed took a deep breath, her eyes dropping back to his hand. "He was abusive, wasn't he?"

The way John kept clenching and unclenching his teeth admitted to the nature of the situation. But, she couldn't have known what it meant to John.

Zed didn't know much about John's childhood. In fact, she didn't know any real information about John's young past. As far as she knew, his dad was merely a drunk, never an angry one. She didn't understand just how deep John's fury went, swirling in the depths of his mind as his own memories pressed at the forefront. But, John preferred it that way. It was better that she didn't know; it was better that she didn't pity him. He didn't want it to be that way.

Zed huffed, gently turning his hand this way and that. "Looks pretty bad. Must've hit him hard."

John smirked dryly, momentarily removing the ice pack from his eye before pressing it back up against his socket. "Maybe." With a sigh, Zed was off to grab their usual first aid pack.

Just as Zed was rummaging through their medical supplies, Chas returned, emotionally drained by his encounter with the two families. As soon as he caught a glimpse of John's eye, a thunderous scowl overtook his face.

"What the hell happened to you?" he asked loudly, a protective square to his shoulders.

"Easy, mate. You should see the other guy." John joked.

"James' dad seems to have a serious relationship with the bottle." Zed sighed irritably, taping a few of John's fingers together. His features pinched a little in pain, only to be schooled back into place by the rebellious exorcist.

Chas slumped wearily, apprehension donning on his face. "That's why you took it." he muttered quietly, letting out a long stream of air.

John smiled sarcastically. "Could always use a good scuffle."

Chas sighed, rubbing at his eyes tiredly. "You're unbelievable."

"I wouldn't be me if I wasn't, mate." John teased, peeling the ice pack from his eye as he blinked experimentally. "What did you two find out?"

Chas and Zed exchanged a look, dull and unsurprised. No matter what happened, John always seemed to be all about the case.

Zed took a deep breath, eyes returning to her task. "Looks like the three of them were interested in the occult. The other kids at school seemed pretty disturbed by it, said it was like some kind of obsession."

"Yeah, Alexa's mom said the same thing. Although, she said it was mostly ghost stories and talk of hauntings. Said sometimes Alexa would sneak out to go to the cemetery." Chas added, taking a seat on the other bed. "Although, she told me about a local story they have around here. She thought it was just somebody's adaptation of the story of Elizabeth Bathory, but it's worth looking into."

"Who's that?" Zed asked quietly, frowning.

"Ah, the dear, ol' Bloody Countess." John sighed. "Rumor has it the lovely countess murdered over six-hundred young girls and bathed in their blood."

Zed's face scrunched up into something of disgust, horrified by such an explanation. "Their blood?"

"Thought it would keep her lookin' young." John replied, wincing as she pulled on his hand a little too much. "Vain, to say the least."

"That's disgusting." she muttered, finishing up with her taping job before sitting beside John on the bed.

John shrugged. "I've heard of much worse practices." Zed gave him a questioning look as he huffed. "But I do work in the realm of the crazy."

Zed flicked her head to the side. "You've got a point there."

Chas huffed, leaning forward as he settled his elbows on his knees. "Anyway, they say the house used to be nearby. Somewhere in the woods, I guess. I'm thinkin' the three of them went looking for it."

John let out a heavy breath, falling back onto the mattress. He wasn't fond of scouring a seemingly endless expanse of trees. "Looks like we'll be going on a nature walk."

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"Shouldn't we have waited until tomorrow?" Zed asked nervously, looking around the dim cluster of trees. Night hadn't yet fallen, still lingering in twilight.

"Only if you want to find dead kids." John replied casually, grimacing as stepped in a puddle. He swung the thurible side to side, letting the smoke from the frankincense puff into the air.

"You really think this is going to work? I mean, last time, we actually had a path to follow, but we don't even know where this place is supposed to be." Chas pointed out, stepping over a log as they walked along.

"That's why you should be keeping your eyes peeled." John announced with a sigh. "Anything that looks like a few idiot teens came through here."

"Yeah, easier said than done." Zed mumbled, hugging herself as she glanced around warily. "Do they have wolves around here?"

John shrugged, glancing here and there. "I don't know about wolves, but probably bears and the like."

Zed rolled her eyes. "Real comforting, John." she growled.

He smirked to himself, glancing at the ground as he nearly tripped over a cluster of fallen branches. Strange how Zed was afraid of wolves and bears, but not of the supernatural dangers they faced on a normal basis.

The smirk slipped off his face as he glanced around the shadowy wood. He knew this was dangerous, but there was too much at stake to wuss out of this one. After all, who else was going to do it?

"Just keep your eyes open." he replied grimly. Night was beginning to settle down around them, making one of their most useful senses almost useless. Keeping aware of your surroundings in a place like this was as important as breathing in his line of work. If you look away for a moment, it could cost you more than you were prepared for.

Because the supernatural, it seemed, never blinked.


	5. In the Mouth of the Lion

_Author's Note: Wow! Thanks so much for all the reviews, everybody! Gave me good feels all around. I was so happy, I cranked out this chapter pretty quick. Hope you'll enjoy it! It's going to start getting pretty wild. Please review! I love to hear from you._

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**5\. In the Mouth of the Lion**

They'd been out for hours, combing through the thick spread of trees as John continuously swung the frankincense. Zed often yelped in surprise when she was accosted by innocent branches, earning a low chuckle from John.

It had begun to rain a couple hours into their search, the soft pitter patter of rain whispering through the dark woods. Even though it seemed as if the trees had sheltered them from most of the moisture, they'd still managed to get completely soaked, shivering as a breeze picked up.

Amid the cold, the dark and the long hours, Chas's focus was beginning to wane. He had devoted far too much time and attention to their search to continue at the same capacity. What he really wanted to do was change into some dry clothes before resigning to a few hours of sleep.

Even amongst his own selfish desires, he still found room to worry about the skinny, clueless exorcist before him. John seemed not to have noticed the clinging wetness of his clothes, nor had he shown any sign of weariness. He trudged on, swinging the thurible this way and that as he inspected the forest with narrowed eyes. John's flashlight stuck out of his front pocket, dark and lifeless. Despite the many attempts, the demonologist's injured hand refused to grip anything for long. Instead, he had to rely on the trusty light from both of his companions.

Chas heaved a sigh, preparing to convince John to call it a night. Heaven knows they needed their sleep, Constantine more than anyone else. Their flashlights probably wouldn't last much longer anyway, considering the hours they'd been out.

Just as he was thinking of saying something, his light caught on a few cracked branches in the firm mud. Quickly roving his gaze over the surrounding earth, he saw footprints in the damp soil, looking suspiciously human.

"John." he barked, stepping over as he kneeled down to inspect them. He could see the undeniable print of Converse sneakers. "Looks like somebody's been here."

John strode over, crouching as he examined the indentations in the debris-riddled dirt. "Must be pretty fresh." he muttered, looking in the direction the prints seemed to be heading. He frowned as he saw the overwhelming cluster of tree roots ahead. Whatever trail there might've been was lost to the knobby veins of the forest. Damn trees.

"Here." Zed muttered, pushing between the two men as she reached out her hand. Touching her fingers against the tracks, she focused on the vision as it dragged her under.

She found herself amongst familiar trees, the darkness heavy and uninterrupted. It was raining, though harder than before. Trees rustled in a light breeze, whispering to one another.

"Zed, what do you see?"

While she heard John's voice, she was far too fixated on the vision to answer. She didn't want to miss anything, determined to catch every little movement.

She heard an unfitting flap in the wind, unnatural to the usual sounds of the forest. Zed combed her eyes over the scene, looking ahead with as much concentration as she could spare. She gasped when a teen walked passed her, laughing brightly. Puzzled, she turned around, seeing the other two trailing behind with similar grins. One of the boys reached up, tugging on something tied to a branch.

A red ribbon.

As soon as she'd entered into the vision, she was thrust back out, John's face close to hers.

"You with us, Zed?" he asked, that small, dry smile on his lips. She blinked, gathering her thoughts together in a jumble.

"Yeah." she replied quickly. "We've been looking too low."

Chas's face pinched in confusion. "What?"

Zed stood up, John following her example. "They tied ribbons to the branches." she explained, pointing just above her. "Red ribbons.

John swung his flashlight ahead, scanning the higher branches with the blazing light. He stopped, settling snuggly on a lone, red ribbon swaying slightly in the breeze.

"Damn, you're right." Chas muttered gruffly, already pressing forward as he kept his sights upward.

Zed and John quickly caught up to Chas, picking up their pace as they anxiously looked for the ribbons. John went back to swinging the frankincense, watching the smoke with renewed interest.

They passed ribbon after ribbon, the red beginning to burn into their retinas as they came closer and closer. John mused to himself, wondering what had pressed the kids into marking their path. Obviously, they must've left the ribbons so they could find their way back. But, why come back later? Maybe they had been short on time before.

Not that it mattered. If they didn't get there soon and the local tale was more than a rumor, there wouldn't be any kids to save. Malevolent spirits were as merciless as they were efficient.

Abruptly, the frankincense changed direction.

John stopped, watching as the smoke almost clamored to get away from the evil nearby. He was beginning to feel like this was all a bad idea. A bitter feeling of dread picked its way through his core, attempting to warn him of the evils ahead. It would've been smart to turn back, but John wasn't going to leave a bunch of kids alone with the horrors of an unseen world.

"I think we've found the place." John muttered darkly. "We'll have to keep close."

He gingerly set the thurible down, making sure it was grounded on damp earth. If everything went well, he'd be back to pick it up later. That was assuming they hadn't already made a mistake in coming here.

A sudden chill crept up his spine and down his limbs, giving him an eerie feeling he hadn't felt in a long time. They were at risk, even as they stood there.

He suppressed a shiver. "Whatever this thing is," John growled. "it's bloody dangerous."

"Yeah, I feel it too." Chas mumbled. Zed looked between the two, a shallow fear swirling in her dark eyes.

John heaved a sigh, looking pointedly at Zed. "_Stay_ _close_." he muttered. She gave him a slow nod, eyes wide as she glanced around them.

"I'll keep at the front, just in case anything happens." Chas announced, he and Zed moving their flashlights to better see what they'd discovered. John used his good hand to fish out his own, joining both their beams as they fell on a unique picture.

John blinked as his eyes fell on the handiwork of the green northwest. What was once a house was now a well hidden pocket of rooms, covered by ivy, moss and whatever else managed to grow. The door looked to be recently uncovered, but had probably been difficult to spot before the greenery had been cleared away.

Another chill crawled slowly up his back, warning him to turn back.

Slowly, Chas took the first step, Zed and John following behind cautiously. They're flashlights wandered this way and that, looking for signs of danger as they approached the house.

"I have a bad feeling about this." Zed panted. John took a deep breath, glancing behind him.

"That's how you know we're in the right place." he grumbled. "There's a lot of evil here."

They fell silent as they moved closer, heavy anxiety tightening around them. John could feel the adrenaline already pumping through his system, awaiting the fight at hand.

His body began to tingle, sensing something very wrong. It felt like they were being watched, as if they were prey. Small, weak prey.

A freezing, bony hand clamped over his mouth.

Immediately, John thrashed against the restraint, attempting to yell for his companions. He was horrified when his voice refused to follow his demands and his body was overpowered by an unnatural strength. Ice cold hands calmly took hold of his arms as a ghostly limb wrapped strongly around his waist, dragging him backwards. Amid the struggle, his flashlight dropped to the ground, rolling innocently across the mossy forest floor.

He struggled harder the further he was hauled away, watching as Zed and Chas grew smaller and smaller at the front of the house. With all the strength he could muster, he fought against the tight grips, knowing full well it could mean life or death.

He had the sinking feeling this was going to be his end, just as he dropped into darkness.

Chas and Zed jumped when they heard the sound of John's flashlight hit the ground. The startling snap seemed to echo endlessly through the silence.

Chas groaned, taking a deep breath as he recovered from the jolt. "You scared the shit out of me, John." he growled.

Zed frowned, half expecting John's snarky reply. Instead, there was silence. "John?" she muttered as she turned her own flashlight to her left.

There was no John.

Chas was beside her in an instant, a protective arm over her shoulders.

"John?" she repeated frantically, scanning over the clearing. "John?"

Staring fearfully into the empty clearing, Zed froze, an unbridled fear settling cold and hard in her stomach.

He'd disappeared. Something had _taken_ him.


	6. Enter the Darkness

_Author's Note: Thanks for all the support, folks! It gives me all kinds of good feels. I hope you're enjoying the tale and please review (if you've got a moment to spare). Thanks again; you guys are great._

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**6\. Enter the Darkness**

"Where the hell is he, Chas?" Zed hissed slowly, breathing careful, measured breaths. She continued to search the clearing, attempting to quell the panic tight in her chest.

Chas didn't answer, sending Zed into a frightening knot of different emotions. Among the overwhelming rush, fear and worry stood highest. For all she knew, John could already be dead. Despite all his tricks and confidence, he was still only a man. A mortal in the face of danger.

Zed knew they were in trouble the minute she'd seen the flash of worry on John's face. He'd held himself with more caution than usual, ready to bolt or attack if the situation allowed it. It wasn't in him to run, Zed knew, but he was concerned enough to consider it. His eyes had told plenty. His posture told more.

But she hadn't expected him to disappear.

It was worse not knowing what happened to him. He could be dead. Or he could be alive. Zed wasn't sure which one was better, not knowing what it was they were facing.

With a swift snap, Chas snatched John's flashlight off the ground. Glancing around warily, he flipped the switch off, tucking it in his pocket as he moved closer to Zed.

"What are we supposed to do, Chas?" Zed whispered, unsure of who was listening. Chas's mouth sat in a thin line, eyes scanning around him with a fearsome determination.

"I'm going to go in there and find out what we're dealing with." he growled. "There's no way in _hell_ I'm leaving John here."

Zed swallowed thickly, lifting her chin up in a new defiance. She gave Chas an abrupt nod, preparing herself for the horrors that awaited them. "I'll be right behind you." she muttered. She knew Chas didn't expect her to follow, but how could she turn back without either of her companions? She couldn't do it. It wasn't who she was.

With a huff, Chas turned gravely to the front door. He and Zed stared at it for a hesitant moment, mulling over the idea with a sense of self-preservation. Chas shook his head, chasing away his own selfish fears.

His hand fell on the handle, then twisted and pushed. With a whiny squeal, the door slowly came open, inviting them in with a dark, luring shadow. Zed took a deep breath; Chas clenched his fists. With one last moment of silence, the two of them pressed their way in.

To hell with self-preservation.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

John came to with a low groan. He couldn't remember getting drunk, but his mind was grumbling foggily, slowly warming up to the idea of being operational. The spot between his eyes throbbed painfully, beginning to annoy him in his moment of confusion. With a heavy sigh, he moved to rub his recovering head, only to snap his hand away with a wince. Puzzled, he inspected his hand, eyes catching on the medical tape sloppily binding his fingers together.

Oh, that's right. He punched that old sod.

John frowned, thinking as hard as his muddled mind would allow. He was sitting against the wall, but had no idea where he was. The floorboards beneath him didn't look familiar, far too old and dusty to be in the millhouse. Well, maybe not. But these floorboards definitely weren't familiar.

Narrowing his eyes, he looked up to investigate where he was. The opposite wall hid well behind the shadows, moonlight being the only real light. He moved his eyes slowly to the right, following the trail of silver glow as he went along.

There was a corpse.

"Ah, hell." John spat, looking away with a grimace.

The girl was lain over an old, silver table, bleached blond hair splayed wildly around her head. Her eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling, glassy and wide.

John spared another look, immediately shutting his eyes as his head dropped wearily. Her throat had been slit, the slice deep and gaping. Blood dripped from an open pipe under the table, collecting in a small puddle on the floor. There had to be some kind of funnel system, put in place to help gather the spilling blood.

John had seen his share of gore in his time, but scenes like this never really lost their bite. She was just a damn kid.

"At least it was quick."

John's head snapped to the left, looking towards the voice. The teen slid away from the shadows and closer to John, his face dimly lit up by the blue night.

"I guess we're next." he continued grimly. John frowned, his eyes glued to the familiar dark eyes. The teen's face was red and puffy, indication of tears and serious stress not too long ago.

"You must be James." he croaked. Even if he hadn't recognized the kid, the bold glimmer in young eyes admitted to his identity.

James face pinched in confusion, his tough façade faltering a bit. "How did you know?"

"I spoke to your charming old man." John replied. "He seems…nice."

The teen's expression soured. "Yeah, real nice." he muttered sarcastically.

John sighed, turning his eyes back to the girl. He couldn't remember her name, just her face. He wanted to say it started with an 'L', but even that sounded all wrong. The guilt was already starting to nag at him. The least he could've done was remember her name.

Moving his eyes along the table, his breath nearly caught in his throat. Discarded carelessly on the floor was another body, pale and lifeless. The empty, open eyes of the still boy stared back at John, vacant and soulless.

For a moment, John just let his eyes linger. He didn't know why.

"So, you're the last one." he mumbled slowly. James said nothing, merely bowing his head in mourning. Despite the horrors right in front of them, the kid didn't show the usual signs of paralyzing terror.

Even so, John wasn't surprised. It came as naturally to John as it did to James.

"I'm here to make sure you get home safe." John huffed, eyes finally tearing away from dead, dim eyes.

"Yeah, you seem like you're doing a real great job." James muttered bitterly, drawing his knees up to his chest. He stubbornly gazed at his fallen friends, his expression hard and resentful. John knew the kid was hatefully pushing tears back, determined to be strong in his, possibly, last moments. After all, James had a lot of practice at home.

John let out a long breath of air, watching his hand as he experimentally stretched the injured fingers. It hurt, but that didn't stop him.

"What'd you do?" James asked quietly, glancing at the exorcist's black eye. John got the feeling the kid had been longing for someone to talk to. Something to keep him sane for a little longer.

John smirked, carefully clenching his hand into a fist. "I punched some drunken bastard. You know him, actually."

James' eyebrows dipped ever so slightly, the cogs in his brain clicking softly. He looked up at John, his lips thinned suspiciously. "You got in a fight with my dad?"

John nodded, smiling despite the grim, dull fog in the room. The two of them sat in silence for awhile, bonding through mutual discomfort. Both of them often braved looks at the corpses nearby, unafraid to stare into the empty gaze of the boy on the floor.

Survival was looking less and less likely.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Zed could feel her heart thumping against her chest, loud and wild. It was beginning to frustrate her, distracting her from the serious task at hand. She and Chas just had to find John. They had to. He was the only one that could put a stop to this.

Chas huffed beside her. Instead of being afraid, he'd channeled all his emotion into vengeful anger, determined to recover his friend from the black dangers of the house.

"I should've learned a few spells." Chas growled, throwing the beam of his flashlight this way and that.

Zed remained silent, unsure of what to say. Technically, neither one of them had ever thought they'd be in this situation without John. No matter what happened, he always seemed to be there when the going got rough.

Supposedly, there's a first time for everything.

"Where the hell are you, John?" she muttered, frowning as she stared down another empty hallway. She and Chas were beginning to feel anxious, a heavy haze of death and sin pressed firmly against their bodies.

Zed heard a creak down the hall.

Still staring down the passage, her breath hitched when she realized there was nobody. At least, not a visible somebody.

She risked a glance back at Chas, his eyes meeting hers for a brief moment, confused. The creak wailed again, closer than the last. Zed took a step back, her eyes wide as she stared into empty space. She jumped as her flashlight sputtered, nearly going out completely. Her eyes snapped down to her hand as she pressed the switch forward as far as it would go, begging for it to live on. Her gaze slipped upwards, expecting vacant air.

She gasped when she saw a flickering figure instead.

A man stared back at her, his eyes sunken and dark. Something unholy swirled in the murky orbs, an other-worldly evil wound deep into his soul.

Without warning, he reached for her.

She screamed as his grip sunk into her flesh, tight and unrelenting. He was going to take her and there was nothing she could do about it.

"Zed!" Chas yelled, grabbing her shoulders. "Zed!"

With a snap, the man in front of her was gone, replaced instead by the empty hallway, lit brightly by her flashlight. Chas stood in front of her, peering worriedly into her face.

"You see something?" he asked softly, glancing back down the passageway.

"There…there was a man." she stammered, still recovering from the vivid vision. "He…he grabbed me, like he was going to take me somewhere."

Chas stood up with a sigh, eyes dropping to the floor as his thoughts ran rampant. They'd only known of a woman in the house, no one else. He let out another heavy breath, running his hand through his hair. This job just got a whole lot harder.

"Can I see John's flashlight?"

Chas looked up at Zed, dread settling solidly in his chest. "I don't know if that's a good idea." he muttered, pursing his lips with uncertainty. Even he worried about what she'd see. "You shouldn't overdo it anyway. You know what could happen."

"I'll risk it. I have to, Chas. I have to know." she nearly whispered, holding her hand out timidly. Chas shook his head, more to himself than Zed. Knowing just how vibrant her visions were, he couldn't help his reluctance. If something bad had happened to John…

He stared dully at her hand.

In a hesitant moment of silence, he pulled the flashlight from his pocket, placing it delicately in her hand. Zed felt nearly electric as the object hovered over her skin for a split second. Then it hit her hand.

She hadn't expected so much blood.


	7. Of Friends and Fathers

_Author's Note: Wow! Lovin' all these reviews! Thanks so much for all the support; I hope you're enjoying the story. I'm sorry the post is a little later than usual, but I was out of town for a long weekend and didn't have much downtime between all the fun stuff. There may not be as much excitement in this chapter as I had previously planned, but I promise it's coming. Again, thanks! And please remember to leave a review if you have a moment._

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**7\. Of Friends and Fathers**

Zed choked on the coppery smell in the air, fresh blood gleaming brightly in the moonlight. Her eyes lingered on the silver table, horrified by the crimson puddled on the surface.

Reluctantly, she tore her eyes away, looking around the room desperately. There was no one. Not a single presence. Just the remnants of lost souls, murdered for the sake of evil desires.

But the blood. It was everywhere. Red smeared itself along the edge of the table, dripping steadily onto the floor. The single door in the room fostered traces of the sticky liquid across its front, more caked on the door handle.

Zed felt a blip of panic zap through her core. This was connected to John?

She swallowed thickly as her head began to pulse heavily with pain. She knew she should pull herself away, but she needed something better. Something to find John.

Frantically, she glanced around the room, looking for clues. She squinted against the pain, her vision blurring as she battled the pounding in her skull. Her eyes zeroed in on a high, thin window.

The basement.

A bolt of pain lanced through her head, her eyes squeezing shut involuntarily as she yelped in agony. The vision vanished, John's flashlight clattering loudly to the floor before her hands wound themselves in her hair.

"Zed!" Chas shouted, taking a firm hold of her before she collapsed. She whimpered, breathing heavily through the ache.

Zed tried to tell Chas what she saw. The basement window. The blood. Hell, the blood. She tried, but she couldn't find her voice. It choked on whispers of pain, hissing through her struggling lungs.

Even as everything went black.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

John sighed, wearily leaning his head against the wall. James' tough act had begun to waver, a black hopelessness settling blatantly across the kid's shoulders.

Despite what James' had told him, John still attempted to open the only door into the room. Unsurprisingly, it was locked. And, no matter what John tried, it wouldn't budge. The window wasn't very promising either, the glass somehow impenetrable despite its long years.

The two of them had instead resigned to waiting, sitting against the wall without so much as a notion of moving.

"Look, we're going to get you out of here." John huffed, attempting to be encouraging. He usually wasn't very good at these pep talks. Mostly because he wasn't a big fan of tender feelings.

James shot him a glare. "You said that." he grumbled, eyes narrowing obstinately. John let out another puff of air. Zed was better at this; not that he wished she'd taken his place.

He looked at James, opening up his mouth as he thought of what to say. After a moment, he snapped it shut again, nothing coming to mind. Frowning, he turned his gaze ahead of him. Was there really anything he could say? What do you say to a kid that was _staring_ at the corpses of his two best friends? James didn't want pity. John understood that much. But the kid had to be hurting.

"What's the point of even getting out of here?" James whispered, an unexpected vulnerability to his voice. John's lips tightened. He knew that tone. It was the sound of loss and, suddenly, it all clicked together.

James had lost everything.

Everything he had was dead. Murdered right in front of him in the very same room he was trapped in. All the good in his life had been taken away in one, single moment.

John could relate.

The demonologist dropped his chin to his chest, clenching his jaw as his eyes slid closed. With a sigh, he pressed his head back against the wall, slowly opening his dark orbs. The silence lingered as he attempted to arrange his complicated thoughts.

John licked his lips, pushing past his personal discomfort. "It'll get better." he muttered. From the corner of his eye, he could see James looking at him, a puzzled expression twisting his young features. John turned his head, returning the kid's gaze with a solid stare of his own. "It doesn't seem like it, mate. But it'll get better."

James turned away stubbornly, his chin tucked neatly between his knees. "What do you know?" he growled, his inner rage flickering out. John jutted his chin defiantly, more against his troubling past than the teenager beside him.

"My old man wasn't much of a saint either." he confessed, quiet and bitter. "He found his best friend in the bottom of a bottle." He turned to look at James, a cold, hard lump sinking to the bottom of his stomach. "Let's just say I wore a lot of long sleeves."

James' eyes snapped to meet his, a certain level of surprise in his gaze. John offered an empty smile, the small curve falling away as soon as it had come.

"What I'm sayin'," John mumbled. "is that this isn't it. Someday, you're going to get away from that bastard and everything's going to change. You're going to be free to do whatever you want and you can choose to be whoever the hell you want to be." He paused, glancing tiredly at the floor before looking back at James. "Just remember that once you step out of that door, it's all on you. If you choose to throw that second chance away, that's your own fault. But _when_ you get out of here and _if_ you make something of yourself, it'll get better."

James watched him for awhile, his expression hard and nigh unreadable. He flicked his head away, eyes following the grain of the floorboards beneath them. "My friends are dead." he whispered softly. John swallowed thickly, bowing his head in near reverence.

"What's done is done." he muttered, wincing when he realized how harsh it sounded. He cocked his head to the side, attempting to soften his words. "Don't let this determine who you are." He looked at James, his gaze hard and determined. "I'm not saying life is going to be grand. I'm not saying it's going to be easy. You lose things. You lose people. You lose friends. What's important isn't who you lose, but how you deal with it."

He could see the tears glistening in James' eyes, threatening to spill over. The kid looked at him with those damn shiny orbs, expression openly broken as he faced the exorcist. John could tell James was trying to fight back the harsh emotions, but it was obviously a losing battle. "Have you lost anybody?"

John clenched his teeth uncomfortably. Out of habit, he wanted to snap that it was none of the kid's business. But, damn, this kid reminded him too much of himself and he felt like he was obligated to answer the stupid question. "I've lost a few mates here and there." he admitted, his voice hollow. His eyes dropped to the floor, his stomach swirling as he looked back on the loss in his life.

"Any of them murdered?" James asked, his face pinching as a wave of grief came over him. John let out a huff of breath, his lungs squeezing uncomfortably. He bit his lip as he rested his head against the wall, more tired than he thought possible.

"Something like that." he mumbled. James turned to stare at him, another question lurking in his eyes. John frowned, shaking his head. "You don't want to know how."

James slouched beside him, his shoulders hunched uneasily while he schooled his features into some semblance of defiance. "Why are you telling me all this anyway?"

The silence sat between them for awhile, heavy and cruel. John took a deep breath through his nose, silently wishing for a cigarette right about now. He'd finished his last pack just before their woodsy excursion.

"Because nobody told me."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Chas stuffed his coat under Zed's head. He knew he shouldn't have let her do it. As much as he wanted to find John, he couldn't be sure it was worth risking Zed's health. Sure, the two of them had practically signed their death warrant the moment they'd stepped onto the property.

But, what if John was dead?

He couldn't risk Zed too. Chas swiped a hand over his face as a worried breath puffed out of his lungs. If something happened, he wasn't sure how he could protect Zed. Running was basically the best plan that he had and Zed was down for the count.

He stopped as a chill trailed up his spine.

Chas slowed his breathing, glancing around warily. He shined his flashlight down the dark hallways, ears open to the silence.

A slow shuffle began to scrape along the wood flooring, each step sliding tauntingly. Chas's jaw clenched together, focusing on where the sound was coming from. It was nearby, heading in their direction, but he saw no one. Not a soul.

He crouched protectively over Zed, his mind racing as he thought up a backup plan. His flashlight continued to swing back and forth, lighting up the empty hallways.

He paused when the shuffling stopped. Directly to his right.

Slowly, he turned the light towards the sound, aiming low. Dirty Converse sneakers lit up under his flashlight, blood flecks dotting the white rubber. Chas held his breath as he carefully trailed the light upwards, unsure of what to expect.

He jerked back when he saw the messy slit across her throat.

Chas swiftly moved his flashlight to look at her face, all his breath rushing out as he stared at the murky green eyes. Alexa.

"You have to leave." she warned, her pale face troubled. "You have to leave or they'll get you too."

Chas brow dipped in puzzlement as he glanced warily around himself. "They?"

"Leave." she mumbled, her voice trembling. Chas glanced down at Zed, his thoughts fumbling over one another. This was all a mistake from the get go. They should've been better prepared. Even if it was just a hunch, it wouldn't have hurt to be properly set for the job. But they were just kids. And, while John could be frustrating and careless, he wasn't heartless.

Without warning, ivory hands snapped from the darkness, grabbing Alexa as she screamed desperately. Chas lunged forward, as if to catch her, but she was yanked back into the shadows, her scream silenced abruptly.

Chas froze where he crouched over Zed, stunned by what he'd just witnessed. Alexa was dead, still a prisoner in the place where she died. Even in death, she was trapped by the unseen malevolence in the house.

What would he tell her mother?

A sinking realization slowly descended down into his core, tight and painful. If Alexa was dead…was John…?

Chas jumped as Zed's groan broke through his thoughts. He moved away a bit, attempting to give her room as she came to.

"Zed?"

She squeezed her eyes closed, her hand hovering over her head as she mumbled to herself. Chas looked around warily, as if waiting to be snatched. "Zed?" he repeated, anxious.

Suddenly, Zed's eyes snapped wide open as she shot up from the floor. Already scrambling to stand, she grabbed Chas's arm frantically.

"Chas, we have to find John."


	8. Fire and Flames

_Author's Note: Thanks for all the reviews, everybody! I'm glad you're enjoying it so far. This chapter includes a very short cameo of Manny, as he has to be in there somewhere, I suppose. Read on and remember to leave a review if you have a moment. Thanks again!_

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**8\. Fire and Flames**

"Zed, what the hell did you see?" Chas demanded, helping Zed up off the floor. She maintained a stiff, serious expression, panting amid her mind's fluttering activity.

"I'm not really sure." she huffed. "My best guess is that it's where they took John."

Chas paused, meeting her eyes. "You saw where they took him?"

"I don't know, I'm just guessing." she breathed. "I think he's in the basement."

"The basement?" Chas repeated, handing her a flashlight as he tucked John's back into his pocket.

"I'm pretty sure." she mumbled. "But, Chas," Their eyes met, a brief spark of worry passing between them. "There was a lot of blood."

"Damn." Chas murmured, already taking a step forward.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

John hadn't said anything when James slyly slid closer to the exorcist. The kid was scared, no matter how well he was hiding it. John couldn't blame him. This was no picnic.

Neither one of them had spoken for several minutes, strangely comfortable in the lingering silence. They continued to stare at the corpses, unable to look away from the tragedy. James sometimes hid his face in his arms, attempting to escape the blank gaze of his best friends. John didn't say a word, allowing the teen privacy in his moments of grief.

Even as they sat there, unmoving and silent, John was on edge. At any moment, they could come to their end, throats slashed before they even understood what was happening. Whatever had taken him was far too good at sneaking around. He should've sensed them coming. He should've, at least, been able to warn Chas and Zed.

So, maybe they were in over their heads.

There was nothing he could bloody do about it now. But he sure as hell wasn't going down without a fight.

John perked his head up as a familiar whoosh swept through the room. He turned his head to look at James, his gaze instead meeting golden eyes.

"Manny." he grumbled darkly. The angel raised his eyebrows as if surprised by the bitter greeting.

"Hello, John." he replied, smiling simply. John tossed him a glare, narrowing his eyes with a wry smirk.

"Hello, mate. Here to help?" he asked sourly, knowing the answer.

Manny pressed his lips together in a tight smile, his frustration hidden by patience. "Not this time." he answered.

"Well, I'm afraid I'm not up for a social visit right now." John retorted smartly. "Got some vengeful spirits to look out for."

Manny ignored him, his eyes resting on the fallen teens before them. "I see you've made a new friend."

John sighed, shaking his head. "Friend might be a stretch."

"He's a good kid, John." Manny mumbled, golden irises still fixed on the pale face of the girl. "Reminds me of somebody else I know."

John worked his jaw, nearly grinding his teeth together. "Yeah, well, let's hope he turns out better than me."

Manny looked over at the exorcist, his face set seriously. "He knows more than you think. He could help you."

John frowned. "And how do you-?"

There was another swish as John flicked his head to the left.

"Bastard." he grumbled bitterly. James looked up at him, puzzled.

"What?" he asked. John shook his head, releasing a heavy sigh.

"It's nothing, mate. Just thinking of an old acquaintance." he replied, offering James an empty smile of reassurance. James continued to watch him suspiciously, finally tearing away after several long moments.

John sighed, slouching where he sat. Manny was always so vague. It was almost like he thought this was all a game. John hated games. Unless it involved gambling. And winning. Lots of winning.

He was startled when James jumped beside him, tensing up immediately. John followed his wide gaze, instantly reaching for the lighter in his pocket.

A flickering figure stood beside the silver table, blood spattered across the front of his grungy, white apron. His clothing looked to be from a much earlier time, a dark gleam in his eyes. John stood up immediately, positioning himself between James and the strange figure.

"You don't want us, mate. Our blood will suck the youth right out of you." John teased, smirking casually. The stranger didn't react, merely staring him down. John noticed the blade in the man's hand, glistening red as a familiar liquid dripped off the tip.

John stiffened as the man moved closer, still flickering.

John quickly coated his hands in lighter fluid and immediately reassembled the lighter. He was just about to spark up the lighter when he felt an icy hand tightened around his arm. John looked up, only to jerk back to avoid the sharp swish of a blade. Instead of a clean slice through his neck, the knife slid along his collarbone, drawing a long, red line.

Desperate and bleeding, John flicked the lighter, the hand still held by the man swallowed by a bright flame. He struggled to touch his attacker as he muttered a spell under his breath, his bound hand fighting uselessly. He reached his free hand over to meet the other, the orange flame quickly engulfing his pale fingers. Jolting pain bolted through the already injured hand, crying as stiff knuckles wiggled and cracked. John couldn't find it in him to care enough.

John lunged forward as much as he could, planting his loose, battered hand on the man's chest. His attacker let out an inhuman screech, causing John to shut his eyes in auditory agony.

The stranger began to deteriorate under the flames, turning to ash beneath John's hand. In one last, desperate effort, the man lashed out with the knife, aiming for John's extended arm. John cried out as the blade bit deep into his flesh, but kept his hand firmly on the spirit's chest. The flickering figure faded away, the shriek swallowed by the silence.

"Bloody bastard." John cursed, inspecting his arm. Blood welled freely from the slit, threatening to spill over. He sighed, muttering another spell as the flames died into nothingness. His bruised and swollen hand seemed to pulse painfully with his heartbeat, but was overpowered by the heavy ache in his forearm.

He turned to look at James, unsurprised to see the boy panting anxiously. James' gaze flitted from John's collarbone down to his arm, eyes wide and panicked.

"What the hell just happened?" James demanded breathlessly, frozen where he stood. He'd bolted from the floor during the struggle, as if he were going to fight himself. "Why aren't we dead?"

"Just a temporary spell, mate." John muttered. "He'll be back sooner or later and I don't exactly have an endless supply of lighter fluid." Speaking of which, John opened up his lighter to peer into the depths. Empty.

James mentally collected himself, dropping back to lean against the wall. His breath came in desperate puffs as he attempted to quell the violent terror electrifying his body. He'd been prepared to die.

But he wasn't dead.

James stared warily at John, as if searching for something in John's dimly lit face. "I don't get it."

John sighed, swiping his hand across his collarbone before inspecting his fingers. Not too bad. Could be worse. Could also be better. "I mean that I only bought us some time."

"_How_?" the teen huffed impatiently, eyes darting to the blood dripping off John's fingers.

"With a spell." John grumbled, lifting his arm up to examine the bloody trails from his wound. It was bleeding much more than he anticipated, red streams running rampant across his skin. He glanced around the room, checking for any medical supplies.

"Hell, give me that." James growled, ripping off his plaid button-up as he snatched John's wrist. John pushed back a wince as it jostled his bruised and tattered hand, instead pulling a smirk.

"You should probably buy me a drink first."

Scowling, James shook his head, pressing the shirt against the bloody gash. "How can you joke at a time like this?" he murmured, pulling the fabric away as he inspected the wound. "You basically got shanked by a friggin' ghost."

"Eh, could've been worse." John muttered with a shrug, wincing as it pulled the skin along his collarbone. James let out a sigh, pulling his shirt and hand away as he searched for a shoulder seam in the plaid. With a grunt, he tore the sleeve from the rest of the material, again grabbing John's wrist as he firmly bandaged the injury.

"You could've gotten yourself killed." James snarled. John smiled, a tease in his eyes and a joke on his lips.

"You worried about me, mate?" he chuckled, eyes trailing along the plaid binding. Not really his style, but it'll do.

James let out a scoff, a fresh frown on his face. "Hell, no. I just met you."

John let his smirk linger, but there was no real humor behind it. He knew James was scared. Probably more scared of being alone than being killed. Although, honestly, John felt a familiarity with James that he wasn't prone to. Trust came easy and protection seemed logical.

Even if he'd never admit it.

It was possible the kid was feeling a similar connection, born through mutual experiences and the dire situation at hand. Like distant brothers coming together to fight for survival.

James plopped down into his previous seat, sighing heavily as he rested his arms on his knees. "Why'd you do that anyway?" His voice was low and quiet, his anxiety subtly laced into every word.

"Because, it wouldn't do much good if we're dead." John replied casually, blowing a breath between his lips. He could really use a smoke. "You're not giving up on me now, are you, Jimmy boy?"

James glared. "Don't call me that."

John shrugged, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he paced leisurely around the small area. He left several feet between him and the corpses, their glassy eyes leaving that strange swirl in his stomach. At least Chas and Zed hadn't been thrown into the basement yet. Still, John wondered what was taking them so long to find him and the kid. He wasn't sure how long they'd last locked in that room. He was feeling a little woozy after all the excitement.

And, damn, did his arm hurt.


	9. Blood is Thicker than Water

_Author's Note: Thanks for your support everybody; I really appreciate it. On with the story, then. Sorry for the delay. It's been a rough, rough week. As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated if you have a moment._

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**9\. Blood is Thicker than Water**

John did his best to ignore James' constant stare. It didn't help that the kid wasn't even trying to hide it. John knew he probably wasn't looking too great, but it wasn't anything new. More than a few times his cases had ended up in a little bit of wear and tear.

"You're pale." James announced blatantly. With a heavy sigh, John turned his gaze upward.

"Nothing to worry about, mate." he huffed, holding back his annoyance. He didn't like it when people hovered over him. They always crowded his space and it always ended badly.

Without warning, James snatched at the exorcist's wrist, turning it so he could reexamine the wound and makeshift bandage. "Damn. It bled through. Must be worse than I thought."

John pulled his arm away, cradling it stubbornly against his chest as he gave James the coldest glare he could muster. The boy didn't even flinch, instead staring—bored—into the older man's eyes.

"It should've at least started clotting up by now." James continued, grabbing John's wrist again without so much as a thought. He stared intently at the plaid wound around the injury, turning it this way and that. "But with this amount of blood…it must be deeper than it looks."

John frowned. Even if he believed James was a lot smarter than he let on, his behavior on the medical side of things seemed a bit odd. "You suddenly a doctor now, mate?"

James shot him a scowl. "No, but Alexa's mom taught me a few things." he muttered, again gazing at the crimson stains in the plaid. "Always found an interest in it and she didn't mind teaching me what she knew. Plus, it doesn't hurt to read a few books."

John watched as the kid moved to inspect John's collarbone, a soft sweep of relief running across the boy's face. John frowned. "Ever think of going to college?"

James scoffed, leaning back in his place as he stared at the floor. "Yeah, right."

John brow furrowed. "I mean it."

James looked up at him, that dark sorrow swimming in his pupils. He managed a weak smile, eyes dropping to his fidgeting hands. "Even if I make it out of here, I don't know how I'd manage to pay for it."

John sighed, blinking back the sudden dimness to his vision, his head feeling strangely light and heavy at the same time. "You certainly have a knack for giving up."

"I'm not giving up." James growled, bristling. "I'm just being reasonable."

"Like how you were reasonable when you decided to go looking for some house you know nothing about?" John snapped. James flinched at the sudden outburst, betrayal wound into the young lines of his face. The exorcist let out a long sigh, shaking his head. He knew he shouldn't be angry. After all, it wasn't like most teenagers knew the dangers of a haunted house.

Damn kid.

James stared straight ahead, the expression on his face that of one both defeated and determined. Hell, it made John feel guilty. He actually considered apologizing.

In an instant, James perked up, eyes wide. Suddenly wary, John followed his gaze, unsurprised to see the flickering figure back again.

Except, this time, he'd brought a friend.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Chas!" Zed shouted, panting desperately as she stared down a dark set of steps. She and Chas had been yanking doors open for what seemed like centuries, trying to find a way to get into the basement. As her eyes traced the dimly lit steps in front of her, an electrical buzz zipped up her spine, sending a chill down her limbs. Something was definitely down there.

Chas came to a halt beside her, immediately following her gaze. "You think he's down there?"

Zed pressed her lips together. As much as she'd deny it, she was frightened of what she'd find at the bottom of the steps. Although it didn't really matter. They had to find John.

"I guess there's only one way to find out." she sighed, dropping a foot onto the first step.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

John was in front of James in an instant, his mind racing as he thought of what to do. As his thoughts stumbled over one another, his discussion with Manny came as a whisper to the front of his mind.

"James!" he shouted, more out of adrenaline than a need for volume. He could almost feel the boy tense behind him, probably expecting his looming death. "How did you find out about this house?"

Confused by the question, James didn't answer for a long while, too focused on the knife-wielding, psychotic spirits to concentrate.

"James!" John pressed, taking a step back as the two figures took one forward.

"We read about it in-in the library." James replied frantically, eyes still glued to the dull stare of the murderers.

"Did you find any names of who lived here? Any?" John demanded, his focus flicking back and forth between the two threats in front of them. They looked suspiciously similar, their complexion and features nearly a match.

"The library r-records read that a woman named Mary Abbot lived here with-with her two sons…Matthew and Peter." James replied, his voice loud with anxiety and fear.

The men moved forward with a sudden speed John wasn't expecting. Before the demonologist could register the gleam of the knife, a searing pain exploded across his chest. He glanced down just long enough to catch the heavy line of crimson across his torso, weeping freely.

With renewed determination, he stepped forward, placing a hand on his first attacker. He assumed these must be Mary's sons, but he couldn't be sure which one he was facing at the moment.

"I suppose I've got a fifty-fifty chance." he muttered, taking a deep breath before the man had the chance to slice through his throat. "Peter Abbot, as the one who named you, I bind you to your rightful place!"

John felt a glimmer of relief as the flickering figure let out an unnatural shriek, his body turning to black smoke as he faded into the dim moonlight of the basement.

The exorcist was startled when he heard the hard knock at the door. With little time to stray from the task at hand, he merely frowned in confusion before confronting the second brother.

"John!" yelled a muffled voice. It sounded a lot like Zed, except a lot more tired and hysterical than he was used to. The rapping against the door became heavier as Chas's voice rumbled in. The doorknob rattled as if they were trying to get in, but John had the feeling they'd find it harder to open than they predicted. Even so, he was secretly delighted to be found.

John allowed himself a small smile of relief before he flinched away from the quick slice of a knife. He could hear James yelling for help behind him, answering to his companions who were continuously pounding at the door. There was little the exorcist could do to join in, instead focusing on preserving his own life while also keeping himself between James and the figure before him.

He cried out as the remaining brother struck him in the shoulder, the knife plunging easily into his own flesh. Momentarily stunned by the pain, he barely dodged the next attack, sustaining a deep gash in his bicep. Desperate to get it over with, John planted both his hands on the spirit's chest, repeating the spell with a conviction he never knew he had.

His shoulders fell as he watched the second brother dissolve into a cloud of black smoke, disappearing in thin air.

"John!"

The exorcist whirled around at the sound of James' frantic call, eyes landing on another flickering person. Unlike the other two, her eyes were blacker than anything John had ever seen, evil seething from every part of her personage. While John had acknowledged fear as a normal part of the job, he'd never truly paid any attention to his own. Yet, looking at the very representation of pure evil, he couldn't help the cold knot of hesitation in his core.

Her hand flew up into the air, the knife shining with white moonlight as she took a step towards James. John was moving before he'd even thought of a plan, sliding between her and the kid as the blade came down. In a last, determined effort, John's hand shot up to catch hers, catching her wrist just in time. He wasn't even sure if she'd be tangible, the world of ghosts far too ambiguous for him to depend on previous knowledge. The demonologist grimaced as the point of her knife dipped dangerously into his neck, pricking the skin as warm blood welled up against metal.

"Mary Abbot," he growled, quickly losing strength. "as the one who named you, I bind you to your rightful…place."

Mary let out a high pitched scream, her face transforming as she fought against her own banishment. Wrinkles fanned out over graying skin, her mouth opening wider the longer she screamed. As her feet began to flutter away into smoke, she tore her hand away from John's grip, the blade glinting dangerously in her fist.

Before John could assess her next movement, the knife plunged into his neck.

James shouted in panic behind him while Zed and Chas still pounded on the door. John could faintly hear Chas kicking at the door before his hearing dissolved into a light buzzing noise.

Mary Abbot disappeared. And then John was falling.

James quickly moved to catch John, horrified by the crimson leaking from the exorcist's neck. He quickly lowered John to the floor, settling the older man's head in his lap for better inspection. As the kid began to examine the wound, the door burst open as Zed and Chas came stumbling through the doorway. The two of them looked confused for a moment, glancing back at the door before their eyes fell on the blond lying remarkably still in James' lap.

"John!" Zed panted, immediately dropping to his side. Chas moved to follow her, glancing around the room before he stopped completely.

His gaze caught on Alexa's dull gaze, the light of life absent from her large eyes. He'd known she was dead. It was just worse to see it in person.

"Chas!" Zed yelled, snapping his attention away from the pale corpse. "We need to get John out of here."

Chas's gaze fell on his best friend, his heart clenching tightly at the sight. Blood patched John's normally white shirt, slashes and cuts standing out against pale skin. Chas's stomach swirled as he saw the red smeared around John's neck. The wound was on the one side Chas couldn't see, but it didn't take a genius to know what happened.

John was still awake, staring wearily at the ceiling as James checked him over. He tried to say a few things to Zed, but was quickly admonished by the teen not to talk.

"How bad?" Zed asked quietly, expecting the worst.

"It didn't hit any major arteries." James explained. "Fortunately, it was more towards the back of his neck. With the angle, it's actually pretty shallow." He snapped up a bundle of plaid from the floor, tearing one of the sleeves off as he wrapped it carefully around John's neck. "But he needs a hospital. Fast. He's lost a lot of blood."

Zed was quick to snatch her phone from her pocket. "Damn. No service. I'll run upstairs and see about getting some help."

Chas quickly took her place, eager to be of service. "What can I do to help?"

"Here." James handed him the plaid bundle, vaguely gesturing towards John's upper body. "Put some pressure on that shoulder wound."

Chas did as he was told, eliciting a quiet groan from the exorcist. The larger man looked at John's face, unsurprised to see the demonologist's eyes slowly sliding shut. It was better that he was unconscious, given how much hell he must've gone through in the last few minutes.

Chas turned his attention back to the boy, frowning when he saw the pinches of panic in James' face. Only a second ago, the teen was cool and collected, efficiently handling the emergency with ease and confidence.

But he was only a kid.

Even if he had a moment of clear determination, his anxiety wasn't unexpected. However, the way that he looked at John…Chas had seen it before. It was clear the teen admired John. Looked up to him, even. Almost as if he were the older brother he'd never had.

"Hey." he grunted, catching the boy's attention. "He's gonna be okay."


	10. Regrets

_Author's Note: Sorry for the delay! I've been struggling to continue this fic because of the dwindling interest in it. But, I knew I couldn't let the continuing readers down, so I pushed on. This chapter is shorter than the others, but I thought it was a good stopping point. As always, thanks for reading and please leave a review if you have a moment._

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**10\. Regrets**

Zed stared at her phone, the bright screen blinding in the dark clearing. An emergency team was on their way, but wouldn't be with them for awhile. She wasn't sure how they'd fight the density of the forest, but it didn't matter. As long as they got here quickly, she wasn't concerned.

She turned the screen off and dropped her hands to her sides, staring off into the darkness. Zed took a deep breath as she listened to the woodsy night life. It felt different. When they'd arrived, there was an almost electric buzz to the air, warning them to _get out_. Now, it was quiet. Empty.

That didn't mean Zed wasn't afraid.

She huffed out a shaky breath, pressing a hand against her eyes. Coming through that door, she wasn't sure what would be on the other side. Part of her knew they might not get there in time. Part of her knew John could be dead. But she'd never actually believed it.

The minute her eyes fell on John, she thought the worst. He looked so pale, the crimson smears and bleeds bold and angry. But, instead of relief in finding he was actually alive, she became more anxious. Zed was used to seeing John bounce back up. No matter what happened—demon, electrocution, beatings—he was always back on his feet with that rebellious smirk. The fact that he was so still and quiet unnerved her. Frightened her.

Zed let out another sigh, dropping her head as she blinked back frustrated tears. She just wanted this all to be over. For John to be back to his bastard self.

Her lungs heaved a full breath of air, preparing her for what lay ahead. She wasn't sure what to expect and she wasn't certain she wanted to find out.

She bit her lip as she turned back to the house. John needed her, even if he'd never admit it.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

John bit back a groan as his eyes fluttered open. He didn't want to be awake. Every part of him ached, the sting of injury bolting through his body. It didn't help that someone was practically _leaning _into that damn shoulder wound, dotting John's vision with white spots.

The blow to the neck had been a shock he wasn't expecting. The old bird responded to his spell much slower than he'd anticipated. He definitely hadn't expected the extra fight in her either. John was so stunned by the mere _idea_ of getting a blade to the neck that he'd simply gone numb. His own collapse was more due to sheer shock than injury. But now that the adrenaline had run out, he wasn't sure he _could _move, no matter how much he wanted to.

"John?"

His eyes felt like lead in his skull, rolling slowly to peer at his best friend.

"John? You with us?"

The corner of John's mouth quirked up a little. Chas. Bloody Chas. He always stuck around, even when he should've run. The man was practically a saint.

Chas said nothing more, instead settling on a tight, polite smile as if to reassure the exorcist. John didn't need reassurance. He knew what was going on.

"How's he doin'?"

John managed a weak smile when he saw Zed's pretty face come into view. Even if she wanted to chase after Jim, at least she was here now. He'd always remember that.

"Well, he's still managing that damn smirk." Chas muttered, glancing down at the bloody mess beneath his fingers.

John closed his eyes, the smile on his face faltering in the midst of overwhelming exhaustion. With a slow, deep breath, he forced his eyes back open, too determined to stay awake. He turned a heavy gaze to his other side, his stare landing on James' young, frightened face.

"I'll be fine." he whispered, the few words sending a fresh wave of pain through his neck. James managed a small shake of his head, doubt heavy in his dark eyes.

John wanted to say more, but his throat practically closed up as it remembered the pain. The kid looked pathetic, almost expecting everything to fail in one sitting.

"He's going to be fine, kid. Always is." Chas repeated softly. It sounded more like a mantra than a comfort, the larger man plagued by the very idea of losing his best friend. He'd always known John's life would be shorter than most, but not _this _short.

Zed settled a soft hand on John's cheek, the other brushing unruly blond hair from his forehead. "Help is on the way. Took them awhile to figure out where we were, but they said they could be here in fifteen to twenty minutes."

John managed a small nod of understanding before he was overcome with an overpowering pull of unconsciousness. His eyes slid closed, expression falling slack as he drifted into a shallow slumber.

"He's losing a lot of blood." James croaked, desperately cupping his hand against John's neck. He'd hoped elevating the wound on his lap would buy them a little time, but there were just too many leaky holes.

"What else can we do?" Zed asked, glancing at John's chest. Blood had seeped into the front of his shirt, drawing a thick red line across his torso.

James shook his head, a black fear swirling in his eyes. He wasn't confident that any of this would help, but he could see the desperation in Zed's face. She needed something to do. He could relate.

He nodded towards John's chest, locking eyes with her. "Put pressure on that injury."

Zed quickly ripped off her jacket, bunching it up before pressing it against John's torso. She glanced at his face, frightened to see the waning color in his skin.

She hated this. Their relationship had been awkward and strained since New Orleans. John had kept his distance most of the time and barely spoke to her for the rest. Somehow, she knew that he expected her to leave. Zed didn't know how, but she just knew.

For weeks, she'd tried to talk to him. She wanted to tell him to have faith in her. She wanted to tell him that she was staying. Indefinitely.

Part of her understood that John always expected everyone to leave. The way he had tried to talk her out of working with him had been her first clue. But, once she was in, she was in. He encouraged her gift and challenged her. John brought her with him on practically every case.

Until that damn brain mass.

Now he treated her like a china doll, pushing her out of the heavier investigations and keeping her locked up in the millhouse. Zed knew it was the guilt. But she didn't blame him; how could she?

She had so much to tell him, so much to talk to him about. But, now, he was slowly bleeding out in the basement of an old, vengeful spirit. Damn exorcist.

"Don't you dare die on me, John Constantine." she huffed, pressing harder against his chest.

"Don't you dare die."


	11. The Waiting Game

_Author's Note: So sorry for the delay. I have had many things encompassing my life and time, so I apologize. I was hoping to post much quicker than this. As always, please leave your thoughts if you have a moment to review._

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**11\. The Waiting Game**

It was almost unnerving to be able to feel his heart beneath her hands. As the minutes ticked by, panic began to absorb into her limbs, moving swiftly towards her core. His heartbeat was beginning to slow, pumping feebly in an attempt to push forward.

She blinked back tears.

Zed began to think wildly about what John may have taught her or any spells she may have overheard. But, in all honesty, she hadn't been paying much attention to most of it anyway. Other than what advice he'd given her about her gift, she's simply wrote everything else off as John's concern. Even Chas didn't understand a quarter of John's dabbling in the dark arts.

She jumped when the door slammed open, voices flooding the room wildly. Zed could already feel the growing tension in their saviors as they approached John. She and the others were quickly brushed away, forced to stand back as they proceeded to care for the exorcist. Zed caught one of the women continuously glancing back at the pale corpses, a troubled confusion in her eyes.

They didn't know the half of it.

The frantic shouts seemed to blur together, becoming one garbled sound in Zed's ears. She tried to focus, but couldn't manage it, being too distracted by the slack flop of John's body. For all she knew, there was no hope. Heaven knew James had already given up.

She could see it in the kid's eyes, as if he expected everything to fail at once. The poor boy looked absolutely beaten down, his posture screaming defeat as he watched the paramedics lift John onto the small stretcher.

"Ma'am."

She blinked, suddenly noticing a strange man gently gripping her biceps.

"Ma'am, we're getting you out of here."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Chas absently picked at the blood under his fingernails. He tried not to think too much about where it came from, but found it nigh impossible.

The bumpy ride back through the dark forest had seemed agonizingly long, unable to see what was happening to his best friend. He'd almost been pleasantly surprised by the small collection of small utility vehicles, despite the situation. But, it didn't help the sinking dread in his belly.

Now, they just had to wait. Just sit there on their asses and wait.

Chas turned to James, carefully taking in the slumped shoulders and rough appearance. "Shouldn't you be calling someone, kid? You don't have to stay here."

The boy's jaw clenched tightly, his brow furrowing anxiously. "I _want_ to be here." he whispered. Chas watched him for awhile, picking up the fear and pain in the kid's form. Whatever John had done in that basement had earned the teen's respect, something Chas supposed wasn't easy to come by. Although, vengeful spirits had a way of bringing people together.

Without saying another word, Chas leaned back in his chair, shooting a glance at Zed on James' other side. She continuously stared at the clock on the opposite wall, counting the never ending ticks of the second hand. He could tell she was determined to push her mind elsewhere. At least, until they heard some news.

The authorities had dropped by earlier, gathering their statements with a special interest in the other kids' murders. Zed and Chas could easily answer honestly, not having seen or heard the killings. James, on the other hand, carefully fudged up his own account, claiming that he couldn't get a good look of the assailants during the attack. Ghosts would probably get him a booking in the closest mental institution.

Chas frowned as his phone buzzed in his pocket. Fishing it out of the small pouch, he stared at the unfamiliar number across the screen. He took a moment to decide whether or not he should answer, finally deciding that he had very little to do in the waiting room.

"Hello?" he croaked, pressing the device to his ear.

_"Is it true?_" wept a woman. _"Is my Alexa gone?" _

Chas let a sigh roll from his lungs, his free hand immediately digging into his eyes. Alexa's mom. He'd almost forgotten that he'd given her his number.

"I'm…I'm sorry." he mumbled. "It's true."

_"And Will?" _she squeaked, clearly trying to hold back her sobs.

"I'm sorry, Laurie." he muttered quietly.

She took a few shaky breaths, willing herself to calm down. _"Where's James?"_

Chas glanced at the kid, pulling air through his nose. "He's here. With us at the hospital. He doesn't want to leave."

Laurie was quiet for a minute, the silence buzzing over the line. _"…The hospital?"_

"My…colleague was injured during the rescue. James wanted to wait until we heard something." Chas explained, his voice unintentionally clipped, but quiet. James looked over at him, curiosity swirling in his dark eyes.

Another pause floated through connection. _"I'm sorry about your colleague." _she replied softly. _"I'll be there as soon as can."_

"Thanks." Chas murmured, feeling a strange mix of bitterness and worry in his chest. "We'll see you soon."

Laurie offered a gentle farewell, clicking off the line. Chas pulled his phone from his ear, staring at the little screen for a minute.

"Who was that?" James inquired, his voice low and careful.

Chas let out a huff, glancing at the teen. "Laurie, Alexa's mom. She's coming to the hospital."

James turned his gaze to the floor, kneading his hands nervously. Chas noticed.

"It's not your fault, you know." the older man urged, watching as James stretched and twisted his fingers.

James shook his head, pursing his lips together. "It was my idea. I thought of looking into it."

Chas looked over at Zed, hoping she'd snap out of her reverie long enough to help him out. No such luck. "Look, kid. You couldn't have known what you'd find out there."

The boy kept silent, instead wallowing in his guilt. He pressed his knuckles together, attempting to reroute the conversation. "Your friend…how did he get into all this stuff?"

Chas could see the ruse for what it was, but wasn't about to press the issue. Instead, he mulled the question over in his mind, frowning as he pieced his thoughts together. "Well, at first it was an act of rebellion." Chas explained. "Now, I think it's more about protecting people from what they don't know."

James nodded, falling silent as his hands continued to fidget mercilessly. He still couldn't understand why John had stepped in front of him, determined to shield him from the psycho ghost. James didn't think of himself as anything special.

So, why?

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

Laurie walked quickly across the parking lot, nearly breaking into a jog. She was still in her sweats. but she didn't much care about that right now. She was still awake doing chores around the house when the cops knocked on the door. Of course, on her rare night off, she still found herself at the hospital.

A breeze fluttered over her face as she walked through the automatic doors, peering down the hall for any sign of Chas and James. She slowed as she spotted them in the small waiting room, eyes immediately catching on the smears of blood across their clothes. A woman she'd never seen before sat beside them, staring intently at the clock as if searching for the answer to the universe.

With a deep, shaky breath, Laurie quickly closed the gap between herself and the burdened trio, immediately crouching down in front of James.

"Are you alright?" she mumbled brokenly, probing his weary orbs. He nodded slowly, but refused to look at her. "James, look at me. Are you hurt anywhere?"

He shook his head, blinking rapidly as tears seeped into his eyes.

"What's the matter?" she pressed, ignoring the sad look in Chas's own stare.

"I'm sorry." James croaked, wiping furiously at his tears. "It's my fault. I shouldn't have told them about it."

Laurie's hands settled tenderly on his knees, forcing back her own sorrowful emotions. "It's not your fault, honey. You didn't do anything wrong." she pressed. "Are you okay? Do you need me to call your dad?"

James shook his head immediately, a strange look in his eye. "No. Don't call him."

She always noticed something off between the young man and his father, but couldn't quite place it. Laurie simply shrugged it off as teenage hormones and rebellion, but it was starting to seem like much more.

She looked behind her at the nurses bustling around the desk, most of them being her coworkers. "Deanne!" she called hastily. The older, blond woman looked up, catching the look on Laurie's face. She hurried over, bending down with a kind expression of concern. Laurie gestured to James briefly before turning back to the older nurse. "Could you possibly find something for James to eat or drink? And if you have extra scrubs, that might be a big help too."

Deanne was quick to comply, gently taking James under her wing as she guided him down the hall. When the teen was out of earshot, Laurie let out a tired huff.

She turned her gaze back to Chas, taking James' seat. She knew her eyes were red and puffy from crying, but figured no one could blame her. No parent should have to lose a child, especially at such a young age. "Heard anything about your friend yet?" She blinked back the oncoming moisture, determined to focus on something other than the overwhelming grief.

Chas shook his head, staring wearily at the floor.

Frowning, Laurie swiped at a few stray tears. "May I ask what happened?"

Chas took a deep breath, leaning back uncomfortably in his chair as he fidgeted. "He got separated from us, but found James first. When we got to him, he was already losing a lot of blood; he must've been attacked."

For the first time since they'd gotten to the hospital, Zed shot him a look. He knew she was bitter about not being able to tell the truth, but Chas didn't feel any better than she did.

Chas shifted in his seat, blocking out Zed's stare. "If it's not too much trouble, could James stay with you?"

Laurie's mouth fell open then quickly shut, puzzlement overtaking her guise. "He should be with his father." she replied automatically, though she was suddenly unsure of herself.

Chas pressed his lips into a thin line, remembering the dark glint to John's black eye. "I don't think he should be with his father." he advised gently.

Laurie stared at him for a long while, lips parted gently as she considered his words. "Why?"

Chas dropped his chin to his chest for a moment, lifting it back up as he thoughtfully patched together his next few words. "It's not a safe environment for James."

Understanding suddenly donned on Laurie, eyes widening as she absorbed Chas's meaning. She'd only met Mr. Peters once or twice before. While she didn't think him a model father, she wasn't exactly quick to think abuse.

"John saw the signs when he went to talk to him yesterday." Chas explained quietly, clasping his hands together.

Laurie could feel several emotions pumping madly through her body, mainly guilt for not noticing sooner. "John, your friend?"

Chas nodded silently, trying to put the pale image of his best friend out of his mind. "He's got an eye for it."

Laurie shook her head in disbelief, her thoughts stumbling anxiously over the idea. "I can't believe I haven't noticed it after all these years."

"You'd be surprised how well they can hide it." Chas muttered darkly, reminded of John's own solid façade. Unless John told you, you'd never guess. It's probably where his excellent lying came from.

Laurie sniffled, wiping salty water from her eyes. "I can take James." she mumbled. She wasn't sure how she felt about having the teen staying with her, but she sure as hell wasn't going to let him go back to his horrid home life. She bit the inside of her lip as she looked to the floor. "He'll be safe with me."

She felt Chas's hand on her arm, warm and reassuring. Her eyes swept up to look at his, seeing the sincerity in his blue orbs.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. I'm sorry we didn't get there in time." he apologized softly, his face pinching in sorrow.

She offered a small smile as consolation, though it was weak and dull. "You made more progress than anyone else." she told him quietly. "I'd rather know what happened to her than always wonder."

Chas nodded solemnly, Geraldine immediately coming to mind. He couldn't fathom the grief if she had dropped off the face of the earth. To always think about it and never know. To never truly have any closure.

Chas looked up as a man in clean scrubs entered the waiting room. He looked around briefly before glancing at the chart in his hands, a serious expression on his face. "Anyone here for John Constantine?"


	12. Open Wounds

_Author's Note: Alas! I have finally posted another chapter. Hurrah, for all. I just want to tell you all again how much I appreciate all the support and interest in this story. It warms my soul! I don't know how many chapters are left, as the story usually takes me where it wants to take me, heh. As always, enjoy and leave a review if you've got a moment._

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**12\. Open Wounds**

"Just tell us how he is." Chas demanded, fidgeting as he stared at the doctor. For the last few minutes, the middle-aged gentleman had been rambling about lacerations and stitches. They'd seen the injuries and they knew sure as hell what the treatment entailed. "Is he going to be okay, Doc?"

Fortunately, Dr. Syverson was a patient, understanding man. Seeing Chas's outburst as more worry than blunt rudeness, Dr. Syverson took a deep breath. "Assuming we stitched up—"

Chas shot him a sharp glare, stopping the doctor in his tracks.

Dr. Syverson smiled tightly to himself, shifting his feet uncomfortably at Chas's expression. "He'll be fine, barring any complications. It may take a few hours for him to become fully conscious, but it shouldn't be of any concern. We'll be sure to keep an eye out for any developing infection as well as any other concerns. As long as he gets his rest and we're able to stave off infection, he should make a complete recovery."

Chas let out a long sigh, glancing at Zed beside him as she dropped her shoulders in relief. "Can we see him?" he muttered quietly, his voice low and strained.

"We're moving him to recovery now." Dr. Syverson explained. "Once he's settled in, I'll send a nurse for you."

Chas nodded slowly. "Thanks, doc." he replied gratefully, running a hand through his hair. Dr. Syverson offered a friendly tilt of his head before turning back to attend his other duties.

"He'll be fine." Zed huffed, a grin breaking across her face. Chas looked at her, releasing a smirk of his own.

"He's a lucky bastard." he mumbled. "By all reason, he should've had at least one major blood vessel cut with all those injuries." He breathed in deeply, shaking his head. It wasn't as if the spirits were trying to keep John alive in that damn house. Certainly, every blow was meant to be fatal and, yet, John somehow made it through okay.

That didn't really matter anymore. The fact was that John was alive and on a path to recovery.

Squaring his shoulders, Chas looked up at Zed before the two of them returned to their seats in the waiting room. Laurie was sitting with James, whispering quiet comforts to the teen as the boy fought to keep his expression tough and immovable. Chas plopped down on James' other side, offering a small smile as the teen looked up with hopeful eyes.

"He's going to be fine." Chas mumbled, nudging James in a friendly gesture. "They're moving him to recovery right now."

The boy's face brightened with relief, his shoulders sagging at the news. "He's going to be okay?"

"Just fine." Chas replied quietly. "But, he probably won't be awake for a few hours. Why don't you go home and get some shuteye? You can come visit him a little later."

James thought about it for a moment, finally nodding a slow bob. "Tell him I'll be by later."

"He'll be waiting for it." Chas assured him, clapping a strong hand on James' thin shoulder.

Laurie smiled in thanks as she collected the teen, wrapping a comforting arm around him as she guided him down the hall and into the parking lot. Chas watched the two of them go with a sympathetic sorrow, knowing the rough road they had before them. Loss was never easy, but murder always complicated things. Vengeful spirits downright massacred things. And James wouldn't have anyone to talk to about what he saw, forced to keep his true memories to himself.

John harbored his own dark memories, even with a couple of understanding pals to talk to.

"How much do you bet he's going to ask for a cigarette?" Zed asked, grinning softly. Chas smirked and shook his head.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It wasn't long before they were collected by an older, sassy nurse, led through the blank, white halls of the hospital. They passed room after room, wondering which held their exorcist.

They slowed in front of one door, the nurse gesturing inside. "This is Mr. Constantine's room. Should be a few chairs in there for you."

With quiet thanks, Chas and Zed wandered inside, their bellies twisting anxiously as they crept within. They stopped as soon as the demonologist came into view, eyes glued to the pale pallor of his skin.

He looked so small, lying still in a hospital bed. His thin frame seemed thinner, tucked neatly under crisp, white sheets. Though his color had definitely improved over the course of a few hours, it still left more to be desired. His arm was in a sling, as if it would prevent the overactive exorcist from doing whatever he wanted with his limb. A near empty blood bag hung beside John's bed, draining its contents into the exorcist at a slow, steady rate.

To Chas, he looked sick. To Zed, he looked tired.

Without a word, the two of them took their seats, beginning their silent vigil. They could wait a little longer, despite the anxious bite in their minds. As long as John needed the rest, they could wait a little longer.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

It was hours before the demonologist even stirred. Zed had dropped into a light snooze, breathing softly as she curled up in her chair. Chas often glanced at her, wondering if he should wake her up merely to spare her neck the pain later. He decided against it, knowing full well how badly they all needed some shuteye.

Chas's gaze snapped back to the bed as John mumbled something in his sleep, the exorcist's expression pinched painfully. The larger man watched carefully, picking up on the little flecks of agony in John's features as his mutters became heated and desperate. Hit with realization, Chas quickly shot up from his chair to gently shake John awake, careful not to nudge his injuries.

"John." he pressed gently, glancing back at Zed. He knew John wouldn't want her to know about his nightmares, being too kind and gentle a person as she was. "John."

With a soft tap on the scouser's face, John gasped, his eyes snapping open in an instant. Bewildered, his gaze rolled frantically around the room, finally settling on Chas's concerned face.

"Chas?" he croaked softly, as if not believing his own vision.

"Yeah, it's me, buddy. You're in the hospital." Chas explained quickly, his voice soft and low.

John seemed to quickly come to his senses, the rebellious gleam returning to his sharp, dark eyes. He cleared his throat, swallowing the embarrassment of having been caught in a vulnerable moment. "James?" he questioned, his voice a little bolder. Chas could hear the touch of weakness and weariness in every word, though he chose to ignore it for the sake of John's pride.

"He's fine. I sent him home with Laurie." Chas answered, suppressing the worry in his gut. It was terrifying how quickly John hid his suffering. Even in the hospital, John could manage to sweep one of his nightmares aside. Chas bit back a sigh, settling back in his chair.

John's gaze flickered to Zed, quickly returning to Chas's own. "You're just going to let sleep like that, mate?" he demanded playfully, his tone quiet, but confident. "That can't be comfortable."

"John." Chas pressed, leveling a knowing look at the demonologist. John had the decency to look guilty, knowing full well what he was doing. His eyes shifted back to Zed, watching her sleep quietly in the chair. Chas let out a sigh, readjusting his posture in his seat. "You haven't been sleeping much, have you?"

"Can't say I ever do." John replied teasingly with a smile, his croaky voice tumbling out quietly.

"John." Chas repeated dangerously. John's smile faltered and he resorted to staring absently at the ceiling. Being raised only a tad in his bed, he didn't have much to look at.

"No, I haven't, alright?" John answered testily, looking over at his friend with a rebellious expression dressing his features. "Not that big of a deal, mate. Just let it go."

Chas ignored him, releasing a heavy sigh as he shifted in his chair. "Have you been eating?"

John stayed silent, eyes again glued to spackled designs in the white ceiling.

"John." Chas hissed angrily, working his jaw in irritation.

The exorcist glanced over at him. "No." he muttered bitterly, turning his gaze back to the spackles. "I'm just not hungry. Besides, it's none of your business."

"It _is_ my business." Chas pressed. "I need to know if I can depend on you. If _Zed_ can depend on you. Hell, John, if you'd collapsed during this case, we'd have had a very different outcome."

"I wouldn't let that happen." John snapped quietly, eyes flicking to Zed.

Chas met John's eyes, holding them rebelliously with a worried rage of his own. "You can't keep living like this, John."

The exorcist glared bitterly at Chas, a black fire within the weary orbs. Even in his exhaustion, he hadn't lost his bite. "I'm fine, Chas. I don't need you coddling me all the time." he muttered heatedly.

Chas pressed his lips into a straight line, stubbornly holding John's gaze. "That's the problem. I haven't done _anything_ about it."

Underneath the scouser's stubborn, sharp glare, something vulnerable and frightened bled into his dark eyes. He didn't say a word, staring unwaveringly at his best friend. Chas let out a sigh, reading John's hidden expression for what it was. Loss, pain, guilt. Personal punishment.

"You don't have to keep dealing with this by yourself." Chas whispered severely. "I can only let it slide for so long, John. And it will only be a matter of time before Zed starts noticing your low days too."

The demonologist looked away, abandoning the view of the ceiling in favor of the wall across the room. His face held a brave determination, the kind that hid pain behind a thin veil. Suddenly, he looked paler and thinner, proof of injury and internal struggle broadcasted over his entire being.

"I'll always have blood on my hands, Chas." John croaked, a dull exhaustion sweeping over his face as his determination fled away feebly. He shifted a little in bed, wincing as it pulled at his stitches. "No matter how many souls I save, I'll always have blood on my hands."

Chas dropped his eyes to the floor, huffing a sharp breath through his nostrils. "At least, you're trying."

"But, what does it matter?" John sighed, staring off dully at the white wall. "No matter how many I save from the rising darkness, I'll never bring Astra back. I'll still be the reason Gaz is dead."

"You said yourself that Gaz seemed fine in the afterlife." Chas replied, looking back up at his best friend. "Said you spoke to him after he commandeered a corpse."

John frowned, suppressing the raging emotion in his chest. "Doesn't change the fact that I did it. I baited him and then I used him. I killed him, Chas."

Chas took a deep breath, leaning his elbows on his knees as he clasped his hands together. "You said yourself this all comes with a price. You know that as well as I do." He huffed, shaking his head. "It takes a good man to step up to fight something like the rising darkness. It takes a better man to sacrifice as much as you have to win."

John clenched his teeth together, fighting back the roiling misery in his gut. He turned his head weakly to acknowledge Chas, their eyes meeting in deep understanding. Fighting alongside one another for so long had built an unbreakable bond between them. While others had seen John's failure and pushed him away, convinced of his dark spirit and heartlessness, Chas had instead offered trust and loyalty. Chas had been there during a few of the exorcist's lowest moments. He's stood by him when everyone else was sure he was a maniacal, hollow soul.

Because he saw something that no one else understood.

There had been only one other person that had given John a chance. Enough of a chance to see a glimmer of what Chas did. Chas glanced at Zed beside him, listening to her soft breathing in the dim lighting of the room. It was nice not to face John's stubborn self-destruction alone.

He turned his gaze back to John, just as the exorcist was fighting the strong pull of exhaustion. Chas had a feeling it was more about avoiding his nightmares than a desire to chat a little more with his friend, but the older man couldn't deny the demonologist's need for rest. Restless slumber or not, Chas needed his best friend back on his feet.

"Go to sleep, John. Zed and I will be right here when you wake up." he assured quietly. Reluctantly, the exorcist's eyes closed, again painting a too still expression over John's face.

And Chas was left alone in the silent, dim light.


	13. A Lesson in Parenting

_Author's Note: Whew, I'm sorry this took so long. I was just having a hard time trying to convey certain ideas as I finish up this fic. I really hope John wasn't OC, as I thought about it over and over and over again. However, I am wrapping this story up. There won't be much after this chapter, but I"m so sorry for the delay. I told myself when I first started writing fanfiction that I wouldn't be one of those authors that abandons stories, so I'll be sure to finish this one up and hopefully get working on my next one. Thanks for reading and, if you have a moment, I'd greatly appreciate a review! Happy reading._

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**13\. A Lesson in Parenting**

"I want to see him."

James stared stubbornly at Chas, resembling a familiar exorcist in his rebellious mannerisms. Although, despite the bite etched into his features, the teen looked worn and nearly at his wit's end.

"I'm sorry, I tried to get him to get some rest, but he said he needed to be here." Laurie explained apologetically. "I thought it'd be good for him."

"No, no, it's not a problem. It was good timing." Chas replied softly. "He's awake right now, but I don't know how long."

James looked past Chas into John's room, seeing only Zed speaking quietly in a hard plastic chair. She wore a soft smile, a delicate hand settled lightly on a blanketed leg. He supposed that was a good sign, considering how terrible John had looked before.

"Can I speak to him alone?" he asked gently, glancing past Chas again. The older man watched him warily, reading the almost desperate look in the kid's eyes.

"Yeah, sure." Chas answered slowly, briefly looking at Laurie. "Just tell Zed you'd like some time to speak with John, I don't think she'll mind."

James nodded, brushing past Chas as he stepped carefully into John's room, his movements cautious and shy. Chas turned just enough to watch the boy go, silently worried about his state of mind after a couple days in the basement. It couldn't have been healthy.

"He won't tell me what happened." Laurie huffed worriedly. "And if I push it, he just gets angry."

Chas frowned, turning his eyes back to her. "He's probably having a hard time dealing with what happened. It's probably all starting to hit him now."

Laurie pressed her lips together, shaking her head as tears glistened in her eyes. "This whole thing, I just…I just don't know what to think of all this. They say they didn't find any DNA or fingerprints, as if no one was there in the first place." She paused, wiping her eyes tiredly. "I mean, it just seems so strange to me. And James keeps saying that he didn't see who it was. He doesn't even know what they looked like."  
Chas fought to quell the uneasy feeling in his gut, settling a comforting hand on Laurie's shoulder. "It could be that he blocked it all out. With that kind of trauma, it's not unusual."

Laurie was quiet for a moment, sniffling as she brushed her hair out of her face. "I suppose. It just…something doesn't feel right to me."

Zed emerged beside Chas, brow pulled up worriedly. Chas turned his gaze to her, eager to drop the subject in favor of something else.

"How's John?" he asked with a huff.

Zed shrugged, stuffing her hands into her jacket pockets. "He's tired, I guess. Says he's fine."

She shot Chas a look, as if she didn't believe a word out of John's mouth. Chas could relate.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

James felt strangely nervous as he sat down beside John's bed. He'd attempted to sleep a little while after Laurie had taken him home. But, even after a couple of days wide awake in the ancient depths of a haunted house, his mind wouldn't rest. The little shuteye he managed was mottled with realistic, tearing nightmares, forcing him back into that basement. Back to the blood and death.

"Hey, mate. You look like hell." John croaked, smiling weakly. He shifted in his bed a little, trying to sit up a little more. James pretended not to see the winces.

"Can't really sleep." he mumbled, pulling a tight smile.

John nodded slowly, gaze meeting James. The teen fought not to look away, realizing just how piercing John's dark eyes could be. Staring into the shadowed orbs was like staring down all your nightmares and sins, swirling endlessly in a bottomless chasm. They were the eyes of a haunted man, having lived through far too many hardships for one being. John's eyes seemed to dare James to do better. To _be _better.

James could almost feel John staring past his façade, peering into his fears and terrors. It was easy to see that John knew why the teen couldn't sleep. James waited for the demonologist to say something. To call him out. To call him a liar. But he never did; he just let it be.

"Chas tells me you went home with Laurie." John muttered conversationally. James sat in stunned silence for a moment, not expecting John's pretended normalcy. As if they hadn't seen what they'd seen.

"Yeah, she thought it'd be better if I stayed with her for a little while. Something about home not being safe, or something." James replied with a shrug, attempting to sweep his anxiety aside for a moment. Even if it was for a few minutes, he wanted a bit of ordinary. Some time to forget the basement.

John smirked, exhaling a long breath through his nose. "Did you tell her anything?"

James scowled, the idea sounding absolutely absurd. "No, of course not."

John's head bobbed a little, his eyes roving over the hospital room. "You have any ideas on what you're going to do when you get out of school?"

James stared at the demonologist, mind returning to their talk in the basement. "Not really. Nowhere to go, really."

John turned his gaze back to the teen. "Come on, mate. You've got to have something you want to do."

The boy shrugged. "I don't really have a lot of options."

John rolled his eyes, getting increasingly frustrated with James' noncommittal answers. He shifted his stare back to the kid, almost glaring. "You got decent grades?"

James flicked his head to the side with a casual swing. "They're good."

"How good?"

"Good, alright?" James griped, folding his arms as he slouched into his seat. John suppressed a smile, glad to see the kid's rebellious spirit return, even if it was for a short while.

"Work hard and do something with that. Be a doctor, be a bloody nurse for all I care." John advised, earning a miniscule smile from the teen. "Just do something with it. Don't waste it. Not like I did."

A somber expression brushed over James' face, suddenly feeling the depth of John's words. John knew what it was like to live under the bruises of a drunken father. Everything seemed harder. Life beyond a small town seemed almost out of reach. Seeking success was almost laughable. With no money and no support, it all seemed terrifyingly unrealistic. "And what if I can't?"

John shook his head. "That's not an excuse. You can and you will or I'll come back here and kick your stubborn ass." he replied firmly, though his voice still held a weary tone. "Remember what I said; don't let this define you. Yeah, ghosts are real and they can be violent, little bastards, but you don't have to worry about them anymore. That's my job."

"How can I just let it go like that?" James asked quietly, glancing anxiously out in the hall at Laurie. He turned back to John, their eyes locking. An overwhelming misery bubbled up from his core, filling his eyes with frightened tears. All he could think about was the sightless eyes of his friends and the never ending trail of blood and horror. The basement would eat at him for the rest of his life. James attempted to quell the rising sob in his throat, digging his fingers into his eyes.

There was a heavy, silent pause between them. For a long time, John just seemed to watch James struggle with his own emotional turmoil.

The exorcist took a deep breath, dropping his eyes to his lap. "Tell Laurie." he instructed. James gaped at him, as if John had just admitted the world would end tomorrow.

"I can't just _tell_ her." James hissed, his eye suddenly wild and desperate. His tears doubled as a maniacal, desperate expression twisted his features. "She'll think I'm crazy. I'll end up in some loony bin."

John offered a lopsided smile. "They aren't that bad." he muttered, earning a strange and horrified look from James. "I think Laurie will be more understanding that you think, mate."

"You've never even met her." James huffed, sinking down in his chair with a frustrated tenseness in his shoulders.

"I don't have to." John sighed, settling comfortably into his stack of pillows. "I've been in this game long enough to spot a believer."

"You haven't even _seen_ her." James pressed with a frown, rubbing violently at his eyes.

John looked over at him, wearing a challenging expression. "How do you know?"

James expelled a long, irritated breath from his lungs, rolling his eyes as he sunk further down his chair. "Yeah, whatever."

John smirked, though the gesture was void of any real emotion. "Just tell her, James. Trust her."

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"You what?" Chas asked, frowning in confusion. Zed wore a similar expression beside him, trying to understand his request.

"I want to talk to Laurie." John repeated with a huff. It was as if he were talking to children.

"Why? Why now?" Chas questioned, narrowing his eyes. John sighed, leveling an irritated look at his best friend.

"Just because. Why do you have to know anyway?"

Chas leaned back, folding his arms. "Because I have to make sure you aren't going to say something insensitive, John."

John glared at the larger man, wearing a hint of angry disbelief. "I'm not heartless, Chas."

"Maybe not, but you sure have a strange way of talking to grieving mothers." Chas replied stiffly, throwing a glower of his own.

"It was one time, Chas. And I apologized." John countered, huffing stubbornly.

Chas pressed his lips into a thin line. "Yeah, not very sincerely."

"Alright, I've got it, Chas." John declared heatedly. "I just want to talk to her about James. I won't say anything cruel. Promise."

Chas eyed him suspiciously as Zed looked between the two.

"Alright, fine. But, you sure as hell better remember that she just lost a daughter." Chas growled, standing up from his seat.

John let out a huff, attempting to push aside the pain pinching at his wounds. "I'll remember, mate." he grumbled, biting back a wince.

Satisfied—though just barely—Chas huffed and made his way out of the room with Zed in tow. Zed paused mid-stride and tossed a lingering stare back at John, examining him closely before turned back around and leaving him in a breath of silence.

John let out a long sigh and brushed a weak hand over his face. He felt terrible. Almost as bad as the whole Pazuzu ordeal. The days of poor sleep and an even poorer diet were catching up with him, coupling mercilessly with the painful lacerations from their latest case. A case he had yet to close with a satisfying snap.

While the basement had been somewhat of a reprieve from the darker demons in his head, it hadn't exactly helped things. If anything, John felt worse than he had before he'd set foot in the rainy Pacific Northwest.

In all truthfulness, he didn't necessarily want to talk to Laurie. He was sure that as soon as he saw the woman's face, he'd think of that bleached blond hair splayed around a lifeless head like a halo. Alexa's dead eyes were still burned into his mind's eye, followed closely behind by Will's direct, dull gaze. Every death carried its own shadow, even those that John couldn't have prevented. But it was always worse when kids were involved. Kids that didn't know any better. Kids that thought they were just looking for a thrill.

So, no, he didn't want to see Laurie. But, damn, he wasn't going to leave James to suffer by himself. Hell knows why, but John felt like he owed the kid that much.

"Chas said you wanted to see me?"

John looked up, eyes curving over the lines in the woman's face. Every wrinkle was a sign of her compassion, acting like scars in a life of concern and love. Even without knowing her personally, he could see she was kind. He could tell she'd volunteer her help at any given instant.

"I'm sorry about your daughter, love." he said softly, still thinking of that bleached blond halo.

Laurie smiled tenderly, though it didn't belie the emotional turmoil behind the mask. Gingerly, she took a seat beside John's bed, eyes shining as she looked him straight in the eye. "Thank you. I just hope she didn't suffer." Her voice tightened with emotion, eliciting a small cough from the grieving mother.

He smiled tightly, knowing it didn't look as reassuring as he had hoped. "I don't believe she did." he muttered, clenching his teeth when he thought of the impossibly deep slice to Alexa's slender throat. She would've bled out within a minute; hardly enough time to say any goodbyes. John's injuries ached at the very thought.

Laurie nodded, her expression twisting painfully as she fought a wave of emotion. Quickly, she schooled her features back behind her strong mask, clearing her throat as she worked to keep her grief in check.

"So, what is it you wanted to see me for?" Laurie asked, her voice a little hoarse. "I'm getting the feeling this isn't just about my daughter."

John smirked humorlessly, eyes dropping to his lap. He felt horrible asking anything of the poor woman. She had enough on her plate as it was. "I was thinking that maybe you could do me a favor."

Laurie frowned, pressing her lips together in confusion as she hastily wiped at her eyes. "What kind of favor?"

John took a deep breath. He felt so sappy it was making him itch. The first thing he wanted to do was hide behind his cheeky grin and throw out a few jokes, but it wasn't time for that. This was different. "I was wondering if you could keep an eye on James for me." John mumbled, looking back at Laurie with a serious gaze.

She fearlessly locked eyes with the exorcist, letting the silence settle between them as her thoughts ran through her mind.

John grew restless, huffing wearily when she didn't respond right away. "Look, the kids got smarts. He can make something of himself. He just needs somebody to remind him of that."

A look of concern marred her features, straining her expression as she shook her head. "I can't keep him away from his father for long."

John breathed in deeply, wincing against pain lancing across his chest. Their eyes locked, John's holding hers out of pure determination. "I have a feeling Mr. Peters isn't going to be asking for his son home so soon." he muttered. The drunk bastard thought his son was a useless waste of space; he would probably be happy to be rid of the burden. "And even if he does, James needs someone that will push him. To convince him that he's better than he thinks."

John wasn't even sure why he was so determined about all of this. Technically, James wasn't his responsibility. He swallowed a curse and shook his head, glancing at the wall ahead of him before returning his dark eyes to Laurie.

"Look, I'm going to be blunt." he sighed, feeling more exhausted than he ever had before. "What happened out there in that basement wasn't simple. It's not easy to explain and it never will be. What happened down there can't be explained in terms of what you know and what you understand." He let out another huff, trying to smother the strange surge of sentiment in his chest. The damn kid was getting to him. "And, unless James has someone to talk to about it, it's going to haunt him for the rest of his life."

Laurie, narrowed her eyes in thought, fighting to wrap her head around the demonologist's words. "What do you mean it can't be explained?"

John slowly blew a breath out his nose. He didn't want to be the one to answer such a life-changing question. "Just listen to him. For James' sake. Listen to the damn kid."

Laurie watched him for a long time, biting the inside of her cheek. She inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a moment before releasing it in a steady stream from her mouth. "Okay, I'll listen."


	14. Ignore Your Demons

_Author's Note: Aaaand, here we are at the end. Thanks for reading, folks! It's been a pleasure. Review if you've got the time!_

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

**14\. Ignore Your Demons**

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Zed, I'm fine. Quit hovering." John growled as he shrugged on his coat. He was feeling better than he had in a few weeks, though he had the impression it was short-lived. His doc was quick to speak to him about his obvious lack in a healthy appetite and proper sleep as of late. John had to nearly beg the fellow not to tattle on him to Chas or Zed. The doctor had been surprisingly accommodating, but forced John to swallow every bite of his meals, the menu of which his doctor had specifically requested in prodding a full and proper recovery. It made John's stomach swirl with distaste, but he somehow managed to suppress the nausea in hopes of fooling the medical man. His doc had even gone so far as to administer mild drugs when John couldn't get to sleep.

So, for now, he felt like a million bucks. Especially since he was still smoothly riding a bout of painkillers. He could probably manage to wrestle Lucifer himself in this state. Well, at least until he got back to the millhouse. Then it would be back to the sleepless nights and drop in appetite. He'd fight it, of course. He always did. But, by now, John was starting to see it as the inevitable.

"I've already picked up your prescriptions." Chas announced, patting his jacket pocket. "We're ready to go whenever you are. I've got us a flight in a few hours."  
John sighed heavily. Physically, he felt great. Emotionally, he was absolutely drained. "Let's get the bloody hell out of here, mate." he huffed, smoothing out his coat.

John looked over his shoulder at the sound of a soft knock at the door. He smirked, seeing the dark, messy locks of one James Peters with a smiling Laurie trailing behind.

"Thought we'd come to see you off." James declared, offering the tiniest upward curve of his lips. He looked much better than he had a couple days ago, the dark shadows slowly retreating from his eyes. Of course, he hadn't totally recovered, but it was progress.

Laurie pushed her way beside him, her eyes alight as she looked at the demonologist. "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy." he replied casually, smirking a little. "At least until the good drugs wear off." Laurie chuckled.

Chas rested a hand on Laurie's shoulder, his expression pulling up in sympathetic concern. "I hear you're finally able to bury Alexa."  
Laurie allowed herself a wobbly smile, tears already leaking into her eyes. "Yes, the service for both Alexa and Will is tomorrow." she replied, sniffling a little as she gingerly wiped her eyes. "I wish you could be there, but I understand why you've got to go."

John stuffed his hands into his pockets, feeling uncomfortable in the face of real emotion. He risked a sidelong glance at James, finding his gaze matched and held. James stepped a bit closer, eyes moving to watch Chas and Laurie as Zed offered her own condolences.

"She took it a lot better than I thought she would." James muttered, so quiet that only John could hear it. The exorcist smirked, eyes falling on Laurie as she conversed with his more compassionate companions. It certainly explained the teen's improving appearance. James coughed a little, shifting nervously. "She actually believed me…after awhile. She was kind of quiet for a long time."

"I hate to say I told you so, mate, but…" John let the sentence drop to silence, smiling smugly with a hidden tease.

A soft chuckle tumbled out of James' mouth. "Yeah, whatever." he mumbled.

Despite the other three people chatting in the room, an almost unbearable silence draped over them, smothering them with anxious electricity. James was the first to break it.

"Look, I just wanted to say…" James trailed off, his mouth still partly open as he struggled for the final words. "I just wanted to say…" He turned to look at the demonologist, two pairs of dark eyes meeting in one, unwavering link of understanding. "Thanks."

John smiled. "Anytime. So long as I don't have to come back to this hellhole and kick your sorry ass into shape."

James grinned as he dropped his eyes to his shoes. "No, I don't think you'll have to."

John watched him for a moment, wondering if it was really okay to leave the kid alone. Ah, hell, this was ridiculous. His hand swept through his pocket, grasping tightly to one of the spare, rectangular piece of paper he had stashed away.

"Well, if you ever need a hand," John pulled the card from his pocket, offering it to the teen with his usual casual confidence. "give me a call. Just don't abuse the privilege."

He thought he caught a small smile on James' lips, but chalked it up to the blessed painkillers in his system.

"Thanks." James muttered, smoothly taking the card and slipping it in his own pocket.

"We better go." Chas announced, looking pointedly to John. John waved him off with an annoyed flourish.

"Good to meet you, mate." John croaked awkwardly, looking at James as he stuck out his hand. James smirked.

"Try not to get yourself killed." he replied, staring at the exorcist as he clasped the proffered hand.

They both grinned.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-

John let out a groan as he dropped onto the couch. Home sweet home. Well, as sweet as the millhouse gets.

His meds had worn off and he wasn't due for his next dose for another hour. Normally, he wouldn't care; pain wasn't exactly a stranger to John Constantine. But, for this particular case, he wasn't too fond of being reminded of the slashes that bit into his body. Slashes that he'd survived, but others had not.

If he had his way, he'd have popped a couple of tablets already, but Chas was holding his meds captive and had declared that he would be regulating John's doses. Some friend he was.

John could hear Chas and Zed shuffling away, chatting about the week's forecast as they moseyed off to their bedrooms. Evening had hit fast and the long flight hadn't exactly been relaxing. Some poor woman had an infant on the plane and they were all subject to its desperate cries. He felt bad for the mother, having heard her sweetly shushing her baby in an attempt to soothe its troubles. Even with all that patience and love, it did little to comfort the child.

Not everybody had parents with such kind devotion.

John's eyes slid up to the mirror above the fireplace. He wasn't surprised to see Gaz's sweaty mug there again, as if he'd been waiting for John all along. In all honesty, it felt like John had never really been gone.

There was no food in his belly, but John could already feel the churning swirl in his gut. He was hoping a successful case would bury the nightmares for a little while. Usually, that did the trick. But, even after helping James fight for a new life, he didn't feel like he did much good. He wondered how many people had unknowingly wandered in that house, only to find a gruesome death waiting for them at the end.

He needed a drink.

John closed his eyes as he leaned his head against the back of the couch. Zed would scold him again for staying up late and Chas would tear him a new one for abusing his own mental and physical health, but he didn't much care. He couldn't sleep. He wouldn't sleep. The nightmares were far too vivid and he was—emotionally—far too exhausted to take them on.

He perked up at the sound of clinking bottles in front of his face. Zed stood patiently in front of him, holding out a beer with another in her other hand. He tried to swallow his confusion, but it bled into his growing frown.

"Thought you could use a drink." she explained, smiling a little. Hesitantly, he took the bottle, gripping it between his fingers with a puzzled appreciation. His bewilderment doubled when she dropped easily into the seat beside him.

"Figured you could use a friend too." she mumbled, her smile widening as she held her beer towards him. Understanding the gesture, he clinked his bottle against hers, taking a shallow swig as his eyes lingered on her pretty face.

The couch dipped on his other side, forcing his gaze to shift in search of the source. Chas smirked beside him, a beer gripped loosely in his hand as he leaned on the cushy couch arm.

"Don't really feel like sleeping." Chas mumbled, taking a long drink from the bottle.

Zed shifted in her seat, folding her legs beneath her as she looked to John. "You know, I've always wondered: what was the absolute weirdest case you've ever had?"

John smirked, his mind wandering over the many cases in his rolling career. He'd had plenty of weird ones. In fact, it was more unusual when they weren't.

In an instant, John understood what they were trying to do. Strangely, he welcomed the distraction. He didn't know how long it would last, probably only stretching as long as his two companions could stay awake. However, the gesture nestled warmly in his chest, reminding him that there are still some good things in this dark world. Even if it is just two sods sitting beside him on a ratty, old couch.

Maybe there was hope for him after all.


End file.
